


Ficlet Ramblings - Jon & Sansa

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Babies, Castle Black, Dirty Talk, Drabble, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Dystopian Future, F/M, Ficlet, Lord Commander Snow, Loud Sex, Masturbation, Original Characters - Freeform, Pregnancy, Sibling/Cousin incest, Smut, Younger Jon and Sansa, third party prospective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 57,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: I thought I'd start to compile some of my little ficlet rubbish all in one place to try and encourage me to stop making them so so freaking long!!They will all be Jon x Sansa based and I might as well rate it 'E' to begin with because... well... it's me.





	1. Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is based in an au where Jon is still Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Dany has taken the Iron Throne and the White Walkers have already been defeated.... oh yea and Sansa's living at the wall with Jon (they all know R+L=J).

" _Oh Lord Commander_ "! Came the girlish shriek through the thick wood of the door followed by giggling and the low murmur of a masculine voice.

"Get used to it lad" Old Man Garrick said gruffly at young Unwin's raised brow of indignation as he scowled at the locked chambers he now guarded.

"It'll get worse" Garrick commented, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet "they broke open the good wine tonight with supper.... they get....quite...loud...when under the influence".

" _Oh Gods sweet girl_ "! Came a strangled cry, as if on cue.

Unwin went back to scowling at the door. Old Man Garrick shook his head with a smile on his lips, his hands clasped comfortably behind his back. Both men were on Chamber Guard Duty and this was Unwin's first time being stationed.

"It just doesn't seem fair is all" Unwin grunted, finally tearing his glare away from the door and back out to the snowy courtyard of Castle Black. "We all swore an oath and he gets to...gets to..." he stumbles on his words as Garrick smirks back at him. "It's not right" Unwin mumbles to himself "he's in there ploughing his cock into that pretty little cunt and we - ooow"! Garrick silenced him with a cuff to the head.

"That's the Lord Commander and his Lady you're talking about son" Garrick warned. The young man stood and rubbed the back of his head for a while.

The silence between the two men was broken by yet more muffled cries from beyond the door.

" _Oooh Jon! Yes! Right there...mmmm_ ".

Unwin gestures back towards the door with both his brows raised, trying desperately to get Garrick to agree with his annoyance.

"Never been in love have you boy"? The older man asks.

"How is he still Lord Commander? He's breaking his vows every day"! The young man complains, completely ignoring Garrick's comment "....and how is it that she is allowed to live here"?! He adds.

Garrick huffs to himself and rubs his beard in contemplation before turning to his guard partner. "How long you been with the Watch lad"?

"Bout seven moons now".

Garrick sucks in a breath before speaking "so you won't remember what it was like before" he states, as if that was all the explanation needed.

" _Oh Gods Jon YESS_ "!

Unwin shakes his head at the chamber door and furrows his brow back at Garrick, imploring him to continue.

"Well..." he pauses, choosing his words "the oath was taken with all seriousness, it's true....but there were threats - real and imagined, lurking beyond that great hunk of ice there" he gestures behind them towards The Wall. "Back then we thought our biggest worries were the Wildlings.....we had no idea about the horrors to come". Garrick shook his head at memories of his former self.

"Aye.....I've heard of the stories and.....and what HE did but-".

" _Sansa! Fuck! Uunghh_ "!

"What HE did"? Garrick repeated back to his companion. "Look here son, if that man in there hadn't fought and won then you'd be walking rotting flesh right now" he finished with his finger jabbing at a still unconvinced Unwin.

Frequent rhythmic banging and grunting noises could now be heard drifting through the thick wood.

"Besides" Garrick continues, seemingly calmed a little from his previous mild rant. "Lord Commander Snow has already began to reform The Watch, what with brothers earning leave and visitation rights now.... we didn't have that before you know" he wags his finger. "Yes.....says he wants to change The Watch completely... make it something young men aspire to join...change it from somewhere you get banished to, to be forgotten about.... turn it into a brotherhood you want to come and train with - you can't do that with all the 'take no wives and father no children' crap.....it's like a life-long prison sentence!....no... it's going to be better...much better - he'll see to it...no more rapists and murderers....proper fighting men - yes" The old man mumbles as if to himself.

" _Ah! Ungh! Ah_ "! Came the woman's cries, in time with the banging and grunts.

"Just seems a bit too convenient to me" Unwin shrugs "he gives a bit of slack on the leash of his command and gets to fuck that whore right here at Castle Black".

Garrick rounds on him again with a pointed finger of warning, his face reddening with rage "Don't you ever besmirch that good Lady's name! She is the very embodiment of the Mother, the Maiden, the Smith as well as the Warrior! After what that Lady has done...has endured?!...No...you don't get to talk about her like that... do you hear me"?!

" _Oh Jon yes! Uhhh! YES! YESSS"!_

"But.....they are not wed!...."

"They will be once the Lord Commander gets his proposed changes to The Watch decreed by his Aunt" Garrick responds stiffly.

" _Ungh! Sansa! I'm......FUCKK_ "!

The knocking noises seemed to cease instantly.

"It's true then? He's related to the Queen"? Unwin asks. Garrick nodded in response.

They stand in semi - comfortable silence for a while, flakes of snow gathering more eagerly on their heads and cloaks. Unwin seeming to be in deep contemplation.

"At least we don't have to listen to anymore of that"! The younger man tilts his head towards the door and plasters a grin on his face.

Garrick chuckles "Oh lad!... this really is you first time on Chamber Guard Duty isn't it"?

Unwin's brow furrows as he nods.

"THAT was just a warm up".

 


	2. Winter Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa's memories are a little...foggy.

Jon awoke by lifting his incredibly heavy eyelids as he just about registered an ache making its home within the entirety of his body. A shaft of bright sunlight was beaming through thick burgundy curtains and stinging his eyes.

 _That's odd._ He thought. _I'm sure my curtains weren't that colour before? Have they been changed?_

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and let out a yawn. Blinking rapidly he noticed a piece of furniture that wasn't previously in his chamber either - a dressing table?!

_Oh Gods!_

Behind him in the bed, he heard a groan and felt movement. He stilled and felt himself hold his breath.

"Jon" came a croaky voice "why are you....... Oh Seven Hells"!

He turned to see messy red hair, incredibly wide ocean blue eyes and rosy lips parted in shock. Sansa.

She was clutching the furs to her chest and appeared to be naked beneath them, he took a moment to assess his own state of undress and - yes - not a stitch on him.

"Oh Gods!....What happened?!...What did we do?!...Do you remember anything"?! She asked frantically.

Jon looked down at the furs and furrowed his brow in concentration. "No...I..." he stammered before coming to a sudden realisation "THE WINTER WINE FROM THE MILLER FAMILY!

They were only three moons into Winter and had been gifted some Winter Wine from some of the small folk at Wintertown. The kindly old lady had said that the warming spiced drink was a highly guarded Miller family recipe and had warned with a knowing grin not to partake too heartily.

"It seems we underestimated its strength" Jon muttered almost to himself.

They both sat upright in the bed, not looking at one another and trying to remember the events of the previous night.

"We didn't......did we"? He asked, piercing the silence.

"I don't remember anything" Sansa whispered before shifting slightly in the bed. She winced and drew a quick breath "but whatever we did, we did it.....vigorously". Jon felt his cheeks begin to redden.

"You have marks on your neck"!Sansa said with a degree of alarm causing Jon to turn and look at her - really look at her.

"So do you" he whispered in response, his voice coming out hoarsely. Her perfect porcelain skin was smattered with possessive red and purple blotches all down her neck and shoulders. Jon had never seen his cousin's flaming hair so unkempt and messed before - he liked it. He also liked the blush rapidly crawling across her cheeks and down her neck. Shaking his head of this thoughts, he tried desperately to break through the fog of his memory.

Sansa slipped a hand down below the furs. "Jon" she started in a serious tone. "I think....I think I may need to get some moon tea".

Jon cursed and held his head in his hands. "Gods Sansa...I'm so sorry"!

Sansa slipped from the bed with a sheet wrapped around her for modesty.

She padded across the room only to come to a halt. She bent down and picked up a piece of peachy coloured fabric.

"Jon"! Sansa yelled "You ripped my smallclothes"! She chided.

"How do you know it was me"? He asked, trying to stop the wolffish grin from taking shape on his face. "How do you know you hadn't torn them in a fit of passion"? He teased.

"Because they were my favourite!...They're Dornish silk"! She huffed and threw the torn undergarments at Jon in annoyance before disappearing into her antechamber.

Jon took the opportunity to drag himself out of Sansa's bed and gather his scattered clothes. He winced when putting on his undershirt and crouched to look at his back in the dressing table mirror - angry scratch marks marred him right from shoulder down to waist. Jon could bring himself to care... he felt oddly happy about them.

"I have marks everywhere"! He heard her call and without thinking he peeked into the small room to find Sansa naked in front of her full length mirror.

She hadn't noticed him, too busy prodding the finger marks on her hips with a frown.

Instantly Jon realised two things. Firstly, he was never going to be able to get the image of Sansa's perfect sensual body out of his mind for the rest of his days and secondly, he was definitely NOT going to tell her about the bite mark on the left cheek of her beautiful arse.

Later that day, Jon took a ride through the snow to Wintertown, convinced that Sansa would assume that he was tying to avoid her through embarrassment.

 _I wonder if the Millers have more Winter Wine_. He thought as his fingers brushed a peachy Dornish silk garment currently tucked beneath his cloak.


	3. Teach Me - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I see Jon being 19 and Sansa being 17 for this one - if that makes you uncomfortable then feel free to age them up in your head!
> 
> Also - they don't know that R+L=J so if the thought of them doin' stuff whilst still thinking they're half siblings freaks you out then maybe this isn't for you.... but then again why are you looking at the Jon/Sansa tag if that's the case hmmmm?!? :-)
> 
> I should probably add that this is a bit crack fic -y

"You want to what"?! Jon spluttered as he wiped the water he had just spit out from his tunic with his hand, blindly lowering his cup to the table.

Sansa stood in the middle of his room with her hands clasped behind her back, gazing up at him through her lashes and her best demure pleading look plastered on her face.

"Please Jon.... I need to learn" she said whilst twisting her body girlishly.

Jon looked at her dumbfounded before responding "but....I'm your brother".

"Half-brother" she corrected with a coquettish grin that Jon was unaware she was capable of.

Normally, when Sansa pointed out that Jon was only half her kin it twisted something uncomfortably with his gut, but listening to her now, she was using the term in a positive light and the feeling residing within his gut was now... conflicted.

"So it's only half as sinful"? He snorted and looked away dismissively only for his eyes to wander back to hers like a magnet.

Jon thought he saw a hint of sadness in her features and instantly wanted to do anything to erase it.

"Sansa....is...is there another reason that you're asking for...this kind of help"?

"I need to learn Jon... for.. for my future husband" she stuttered, her mask of confidence slipping slightly.

"Aye...you've said that...any other reason"? He nodded. Sansa contemplated Jon where he stood before sighing and plopping herself down to sit on his bed in a decidedly resigned manner. Jon leant back against his small writing desk, eyes intent on her.

"Wallace" she huffed out, not meeting Jon's stare.

"Wallace?....The new stable hand?" He didn't like where this was going. "What did he do"?! He asked, his voice and demeanour growing dark.

Sansa hugged her own frame protectively and bit her lip before responding "he laughed at me".

Jon stayed silent, hoping that she would continue.

"I kissed him...." she said while her hands twisted in her skirts nervously "I kissed him and..... and I could feel....him....I felt his.....through his breeches..... I didn't know what to do...." her voice became shaky like she wanted to cry "...and he laughed at me".

Jon felt his blood begin to bubble and boil as he made a mental note to have a few choice words with Wallace. "You didn't need to do anything Sansa" he sighed, trying to calm himself.

"Maybe so" she tilts her head a fraction as she contemplates Jon's boots "but I would at least like to not suffer a state of panic should it...happen again" Sansa finished her words with a daring stare at Jon.

"Happen again"? He mimicked "Sansa, I thought you were a Lady"?

Her face flushes a deeper red now but Jon can see it wasn't from embarrassment but anger. She stands up rigidly straight, her hands making fists at her sides before he realises what he'd said.

"I am a Lady"! Sansa says in a low, dangerous tone. Jon is surprised that she hadn't used her usual girlish shriek of indignation, he's even more surprised that the way she growled out her words had a bodily effect on him.

"That's.....that's not what I meant" he says, holding up his hands to try and placate the little she-wolf. "I only mean that I always thought Ladies are supposed to stay chaste and pure....for their husbands.... that inexperience is...a good thing"? He shrugs.

Sansa cools a little but rolls her eyes at his words. "Jon...do you think that because of my birth I should keep myself chaste? That I should save those experiences for a man that will be chosen for me... that I may not even want"?

Jon searches her face. He had never really thought upon the topic, especially concerning his sister - but now he was, and yet again his bastard body was reacting to his thoughts.

"And Wallace is the boy you want"? Jon hears himself spit out the word 'boy' with a small degree of contempt. Sansa's hands relax and begin their awkward twisting on her skirts once more as her gaze returns to the floor.

"Perhaps not" she says softly. Jon stays quiet as he studies Sansa's nervousness. It's the quiet that presses her to continue talking. "I know what the other girls do with men... I've heard the stories they've told me... I....I only want a greater understanding is all... and.....I know you would never laugh at me... I trust you Jon".

He continued to contemplate Sansa and her request. The way her lips wrapped around her declaration of trust in him had Jon feeling ten feet tall but these stories that her ladies had told - not one of them would have contained him. Why would they? For he was nearly as inexperienced in these acts as she - and yet here she is asking for guidance.

Jon closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "Sansa" he started with warning "if we do this....if I let you see me... and.... touch me....and we get caught-".

"We won't" she cuts him off.

"If we get caught" Jon tried again, this time with his eyes open and fixed upon hers "then I shall be for the chopping block - you know that don't you?... Father will take my manhood then my head" he tries for a bit of humour but all his statement seems to do is draw Sansa's eye to his breeches - which makes him feel....odd (but not unpleasant).

"We won't get caught" Sansa reiterates with more authority in her voice than Jon thought her capable of. Her eyes once again flit to the juncture of his thighs before she licks her lips and turns on her heels. He thinks that perhaps she is leaving to let him ponder her request but to his surprise she deftly closes the latch to his chamber door and strides back towards him.

Jon gulps as Sansa now stands so close to him that he could count the freckles that the Summer sun has painted onto the bridge of her nose. Her crystal blue eyes shimmer as she bores into his own. She licks her lips again, drawing his gaze to her mouth. Jon shifts a little uncomfortably on his feet.

"Please Jon".

He starts to think of all the times he hasn't been able to deny this girl anything when she asks him so sweetly. But it's never been for anything like this. Nothing like this.

"Please....will you teach me?... teach me how to please a man"?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not - I don't actually mean to be a tease!! It's just a) it's 1am and I wanted to post something and also get some sleep and b) this would be super long if I'd tagged everything into one looong chapter!


	4. Whispered Words - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another inspiration goblin whispered this little fic into my ear..... THINK that I add another chapter onto this one hence the 'part 1' bit of the chapter title :-)
> 
> I hope you like it!!! FLUFF AHEAD!!

Sansa's mind was foggy from both slumber and the recent lack of sleep her babe was putting her through, but an unknown entity within urged her forward towards the land of the wakeful. Something was amiss in her chambers in the small hours of the morning. The fire crackled low in the darkness, her room was filled with warmth.

It wasn't noises from her daughter that awoke her but the low murmuring of a man. A man - in her chambers, at this hour - with her and the babe - when Jon was not due back from his long trip to Kings Landing for another week.

Sansa held her breath and slowly opened her eyes, willing them to focus into the darkness. She knew her dagger was hidden just an arms reach away, tucked behind her headboard. She would have to move slowly and quietly though, so as not to alert the intruder and give him the advantage.

She listened to his murmurings and as she gradually became more and more awake, his low whispers started to form coherent words.

"You'll thank the Gods that you look like your mama, I promise you that little one".

The unknown man seemed to be cooing over her babe. Her babe, that was only just introduced to the world a fortnight ago and is yet to be given a name or meet her father.

Sansa shifts her head ever so slightly towards the cot. It had been expected of her to house the infant in the nursery and make use of wet nurses throughout the nights, but Sansa found that she could not. An odd sense of jealously courses through her veins at the thought of another feeding her daughter.

She saw the back of a man hunched over where her babe lay and she knew instantly by the broad shoulders and dark hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head that it was Jon. He had come home early and he was in her room.

"So sweet, little one" he whispers to himself. He smells of rain, leather and horses. Sansa decides to keep him deceived of her state of wakefulness for the time being.

He is not meant to be back yet - the Dragon Queen having demanded he visit the Capital. She demands a great many things of them - that they wed and should produce her heirs. Joining in marriage with Jon Snow was not a difficult ask. They got along well, neither would need to uproot from Winterfell and it saved them both from wedding other, unsavoury matches.

The heirs though - that had proved to put an awkward kind of pressure on them both. They knew it to be their duty but it did not come without its difficulties.

Jon visited her only when she asked - once she was determined to get with child. Each coupling less jarring than the last, until Sansa's womb quickened upon the third moon.

And now she surveyed him finally meeting the outcome of those shared nights with a small smile upon her lips.

"We have not met yet sweetling, but I am your papa.....I'm sorry about that" he let out a very quiet chuckle and Sansa tried not to giggle into her furs.

"I hope you come to like me little one, I am sorry I could not welcome you to the world.... but your mama was here, she'll always be here for you... you'll love her best, you'll see - how could anyone not love her"?

Sansa's brow furrowed in the dim light - they had never spoken of love, only duty, only preserving House Stark and appeasing the Dragon Queen. We're these the un-thought-out muttering of an overwhelmed new father, weary from days upon days of travel? Perhaps.

Jon continues telling the babe - their babe - of how she'll grow and play about the castle, of how she'll most likely get her own way with him and that everyone will love her, as they do her Mother.

Soft snuffling noises are eventually accompanied by a tiny cry.

"Oh no, no... hush little one... do not wake, do not wake"! Jon whispers frantically as his hands surge forward to sooth the child, only to pause and be retracted in a slightly panicked, unsure manner.

The cry morphs into a wail and Sansa sighs as she sits up. Jon whirls round, eyes slightly wide.

"Apologies Sansa! I did not mean to wake her...or you...I...I...she was not in the nursery and I just wanted to see her..." he stammered as their daughter continued to protest behind him.

"It's fine Jon, she's due a feed" Sansa waves off his concern as she slips from under her furs and walks towards him and the cot. She does not miss the way his eyes skim up and down her shift as she pads barefoot across the stone floor. Sansa feels his attentions sweep away her fatigue in a rather surprising way.

"You're home earlier than expected" she smiled at him, before reaching down into the cot to scoop up their fussing daughter who was now so ravenous she was feasting on her tiny little fists.

"Yes....I rode ahead" Jon shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he watched Sansa bounce and rock the baby whilst she headed over to one of the armchairs by the hearth. "I'm...sorry for sneaking into your chambers...it's...well, it's just" he gestured to the squirming bundle in Sansa's arms. Sitting absentmindedly on the vacant chair opposite Sansa, leaning forward with interest.

"It is fine" Sansa responds in a placating tone, now not sure as to whether she is trying to sooth her infant or her husband. She hesitates only a fraction before she begins to unbutton the front of her shift. Jon's eyes widen in realisation and he stands quite abruptly, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his thighs.

"Apologies Sansa - I should leave".

He's about to turn and head towards the door when Sansa had finished making her decision. She was truly in two minds about her modesty whilst feeding their babe around Jon but how could she turn him away now? After his eagerness to meet his child and his sweet cooing?

"No Jon, it is fine, truly... stay".

"Are...are you sure"? Jon asks, licking his lips and still looking for all the world like a bag of nerves.

"Yes...just..." Sansa feels some self doubt creep into her chest "...just turn away whilst I get her latched on...please" she compromises - happier with this arrangement, not only due to baring her breast but because this was all still so terribly new to her.

"Of course" Jon nodded enthusiastically as he turned his back to his wife and child.

Sansa watched Jon's face as he automatically replied to her questions about his journey, his stay at Kings Landing and his time with the Dragon Queen. All the while, his eyes were intent on the back of their daughter's head and perhaps skimming the small area of plump breast not obscured from his view. Surprisingly, Sansa found that she did not mind, and even neglected to ask Jon to turn away whilst she swapped the babe from one breast to the other. Jon flushed and forced himself to stare into the flames of the hearth until Sansa was pushed to tell him that he can look at her again.

After the feeding, Sansa rises from her seat and reaches for a cloth on her dresser. To Jon's surprise, she walks towards him and drapes the fabric over his shoulder. He turns his head to look down at the cloth and then up to Sansa and raises an eyebrow in query.

"I may as well make use of you while you're here Jon" she chuckles at him as she places the content little babe to into his hesitant hands.

Jon holds their daughter too far away from himself, with his hands under her arms. Sansa has to fight to control the laughter threatening to bubble up and out of herself as she sees the look of overwhelmed panic set on his face.

"You need to wind her for me Jon" she chuckles. Jon turns and answers her explanation with more query written in his features. Sansa smiles widely and shakes her head at him.

"Drape her on your shoulder like this" Sansa explains whilst guiding his full hands. Their daughter wriggles half heartedly in her milk induced sleepy state. "One hand on her bottom and the other needs to rub and pat her back until she brings up the wind" Sansa concludes, stepping backwards to survey her work. Jon still looks in a slight state on shock but this soon melts into the most contented smile when the babe turns her head and he can hear her little sleepy breaths.

Sansa's mind is full of unanswered queries as she laid back down in her bed and watched Jon - now much more confident holding his child - walk around the dim light of her chambers with the babe still at his shoulder, seemingly unwilling to put her back down in her cot. She ponders the words he whispered to the infant as the deep pull of sleep overtakes her.

When she wakes again, she finds Jon asleep back in the armchair,babe now slumbering in the crook of his elbow.

 

 

 


	5. Increasing the Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Daenerys has agreed to use her Dragon Children to help battle with the looming threat of the dead.... but only if Jon is wed to Sansa and works on producing some little Targaryen heirs for her.
> 
> Battle is upon them sooner than expected and Jon needs to leave to go to war.
> 
> SMUT AHEAD

"Sansa" Jon sighed with no small amount of irritation in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. "We...we don't have time, Daenerys will be here soon, her camp is beginning to stir and I'll....I'll need to leave".

"I know that Jon" Sansa huffed with her hands on her hips. "But we've hardly tried to keep up our end of the agreement have we"?

It was true. In order to coerce the Targaryen Queen into using her dragon fire - risking her 'children's' lives to help defeat the threat of the marching army of dead flesh, Jon and Sansa agreed to wed and to produce her heirs to the Iron Throne.

Jon, having already fought the threat beyond the wall, had agreed quickly, knowing that the Dragon Queen's aid was their best and only option. Sansa conceded also, although Jon suspected it was not without her reservations and he was loathe to force the second condition upon her as if she were a brood mare.

In truth, all parties of the agreement had believed that there were many moons between the beginnings of their deal and the moment that the armies of the North and the Dragon Queen would need to act. But the dark and cold of the night soon began to bleed into the daylight hours. Snows became heavier and lakes refused to thaw when word came from Castle Black that the enemy was on the rise. They needed to move out - war was upon them sooner than expected.

The newly married Lord and Lady of Winterfell had only coupled twice, the possibility of a babe taking root within Sansa's belly seeming unlikely but unknown.

"There's no way of knowing if you are already with child Sansa... and Daenerys... she... she won't back out now... she can't... it's no fault of ours that the fight is upon us sooner than expected.... don't...just...don't worry about it". Jon explained, distracted whilst moving about his chambers, still gathering a few items to take with him on the march northwards.

"It's....it's not that" Sansa responded, watching Jon as he travelled the room. He stilled and took in her worried expression, pausing to allow her to finish her thought aloud. "I'm not worried about Daenerys, I......you may fall...you might never return...and I.... I do want a babe Jon....if you are lost to me then please, please let's increase the chances that I'll have a family...we are the last Starks left" she whispered, looking on the verge of tears whilst twisting her hands in her skirts.

Jon had not contemplated this want of Sansa's. In truth, he had not thought much upon his cousin, bar making sure she was completely sure upon agreeing to their 'deal' - Jon would not force Sansa into anything but was too deep in thought about battle and the wars to come to think on much else.

His eyes shifted between Sansa's pretty pleading face and the window that overlooked the Targaryen camp where Daenerys' men were taking down their tents, preparing to move onwards to battle.

"We don't have much time... I have to go..." he repeated "it....it wouldn't be like..." Jon tried to explain as he remembered their only encounters. He had tried so very hard to help her relax and make the experience as agreeable as a once bastard-half-brother-turned-cousin could do for a fine Lady like Sansa. But now, there would be no time for that - it would need to be quick, it would need to be... fucking.

"I know that Jon... we can be quick" Sansa said as if addressing his thoughts. He watched her features morph from nervousness to resolute.

"You know it would not guarantee anything don't you Sansa" he sighs.

"Yes... but it would increase the possibility" she stated, whilst holding a splayed hand to her flat stomach.

Jon took a moment to regard his wife. If circumstances were different he knows he would not have trapped her with him so. He knows that 'Bastard Prince' or not, she could do better, deserved better. That he no more wishes to die with the possibility of being a father to a child he'll never know then she a mother to a fatherless babe. But - If this was truly what she wants then who was he to deny her?

"Alright" Jon conceded "quickly then....and I feel I'll need to apologise in advance" he said, trying his best at a little humour to break the gathering tension - despite the truth to his statement.

Sansa smiled at her small victory before suddenly putting on a very matter-of-fact air about her whilst instructing Jon to pull down his breeches and small clothes and sit on the overstuffed armchair. He looked at her in question.

"Just do it Jon" she ordered as she casually reached below her skirts and discarded of her own smallclothes, the robins egg blue silk underthings now lay crumpled on the stone floor of Jon's chambers.

Jon absentmindedly licked his lips whilst staring at the silks. He should probably be a little abashed that that one small action of Sansa's was enough to harden his cock, ready for the job. Not this time though, time was something they did not have.

He did as instructed and sat with his breeches and smallclothes bunched down to the tops of his boots and watched, slightly in awe as Sansa gathered her skirts and perched upon his lap. Who was this woman? This Lady now straddling him in the midday and not tucked beneath her furs in the safety of the night, candlelight low and clad in a high necked thick cotton shift? He knew she had seen things, experienced things with that vile slug of a man Baelish but Jon had never pressed her to divulge anything to him. She did not owe him all of her truths.

His thoughts were interrupted when his breath caught jaggedly in his throat as Sansa wrapped a hand around his cock. A groan flew from his lips as she gave him a few strokes. Their eyes flicked to each other's and he was unsure as to whether he owed his Lady wife an apology. She had never touched him like this before, her soft delicate hand a pleasant contrast to his usual calloused one.

Seemingly satisfied that Jon was ready to perform, Sansa's hand left him but stayed beneath her many skirts. Jon watched as her arm continued to make jerking movements while the other gripped the back of the chair as Sansa closed her eyes. It took him longer than perhaps it should have to realise that she was readying herself to take him in. The thought of Sansa touching herself having never entered his head before meant that he had to bite down hard on his tongue to cease another groan from leaving his suddenly dry throat and again, he wondered who she was - this woman before him?

Sansa sunk herself down upon him slowly, with closed eyes and teeth lightly gnawing at her bottom lip. Jon increased the hard grip he had on the armrests of the chair as he stared intently up at her face a few inches from his own, his breath hot on her chin. Despite the awkward exchange before the act, and the business-like manner in which Sansa was carrying out the experience, Jon couldn't help be aroused beyond measure from her wetness and heat that took him in whole. Once fully seated she rolled her hips a little making Jon feel that he had temporarily lost his sight.

They had to be quick - he knew that and yet he found himself holding back his peak as he watched Sansa with fascination as she bounced and rocked on him. _Gods she was skilled at this._ Would he have found that out if they had had more time as man and wife - to explore each other - before battle took him away?

There came a loud knock at his chamber door before a serving boy announced through the wood  that Queen Daenerys had arrived and was awaiting him in the Great Hall. Sansa's eyes flew open in panic and Jon couldn't keep the annoyance from his tone as he hollered back at the boy to inform the Dragon Queen that he will be slightly delayed.

"It's alright" he said softly as one of his large hands curled around her cheek.

"I don't want you to go" she whispered.

"It'll be alright" was all he could respond with as his other hand came to grip her waist. Sansa nodded and resumed her movements.

Jon didn't want to think of the battle or the Queen waiting for him elsewhere in the castle. He wanted to fall headlong into all consuming thoughts of this beautiful creature writhing in his lap. He wanted to think if nothing but burying himself between her thighs and making her call out his name in a raspy wanton voice. Or of her belly growing thick with his child - not because it was ordered of them but because they both wanted to fill Winterfell's halls with their own brood.

Once again he found himself holding back his release, trying to prolong their encounter so that he may etch its memory onto himself as she rose and fell wet upon his length.

"Would it help if I took my bodice off"? Sansa asked suddenly, breaking the hazy rapture in which he was mesmerised by her.

"What"?

"To...to...help you along?...would it help if I bared myself to you"?

Jon couldn't answer her, he was too consumed with wondering how she managed to sound both innocently unsure and boldly matter-of-fact.

Sansa lost patience with him and began tugging at her laces. She rid herself of her bodice and then pushed down the sleeves of her undershirt, causing it to pool at her hips.

"Gods Sansa - you are perfect" Jon's words disobediently escaped him as he stared at her creamy soft flesh and rose blushed teats. She smiled sweetly as she brought his hands to cup her breasts, urging him to squeeze and caress.

"May I"? Jon asked as he leant his head forward, licking his lips and peering up at Sansa for permission. She nodded her assent and let out a little whimper when Jon lapped his tongue over one of her pebbling teats. Jon growled into her as he continued to lick and suck, Sansa begun to rock her hips over his own and he knew he was not long for spilling inside her.

She set a fast but steady pace as one of her hands relinquished the back of the seat and instead had a firm grip in his hair at the nape of his neck.

Jon was just beginning to think he could hold off his peak a little longer to enjoy the feel of her when her breathing became laboured and a short strangled cry erupted from her panting lips. Jon felt her warm cunny grip him repeatedly, milking him from his seed as he cried out her name and held onto her fiercely.

He was panting into the valley of her breasts, his forehead resting on Sansa's collarbone as she idly stroked her fingers through his hair. Jon sent prayers to all the Gods that he could just stay there, where he was, being enveloped and fussed over by this amazingly brave woman whom he had not realised even existed but an hour ago.

"If the Gods are good to us, you'll return unharmed to meet your son or daughter" Sansa breathed as if hearing his thoughts.

"Aye" he huffed into her skin "Aye, I'd like that very much Sansa".

 

 


	6. The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! I've started some of the 'part 2' chapters of some of the previous ficlets (and have refined some plans for upcoming chapters to my WIPs) BUUUT..... here's some pervy Jon being smutty... Modern AU....

Jon hates himself a little bit more each time he does it. But that's never seemed to stop him, he thinks as he settles onto his bed, scooting to the side that is pressed up against the wall of his small room.

He shares the three bedroom flat with his best friend from Uni, Robb Stark and Robb's eldest sister, Sansa.

He'd only met Sansa that very same day that they'd been handed the keys to their new rented abode. He hadn't been nervous or worried about sharing living space with someone he'd only heard talk of from Robb - Jon was pretty laid back in nature and was sure everything would be fine.

But it wasn't fine. It wasn't fine the first instant he'd laid eyes on her, when she'd flashed him the most dazzling smile he'd ever witnessed. It wasn't fine when he'd quickly realised that she was, quite frankly, the most exquisite woman he'd ever seen as she padded from the bathroom back to her bedroom wearing only a towel after having a shower. And it DEFINITELY wasn't fine when he'd realised that he could hear her using her vibrator through the thin wall dividing their bedrooms.

Sansa, he quickly learnt, was a creature of habit. Having to be up and out early in the morning for her classes meant that she had a schedule - and she stuck to it.

So there he would lay each weekday night at 10:30pm, cock in hand, listening to the buzz through the wall, imagining her parted lips and arched back as her hand would work the toy between her legs. Most nights, towards the end of her 'session' he could even hear her whimper or moan - noises so fucking hot that he really was tempted to record them somehow.

At first he'd been so embarrassed around her that he would slink into shyness and keeping his distance - thinking that she would somehow know what a pervert he was. But Sansa, being the sweetheart that she was, had been determined that they were to become the best of friends all under one roof.

For a while Jon thought it might even work - him just being friends with her - but then the night would come - and so would she (quickly followed by Jon).

He was plagued with mental images of her - sometimes she'd be pleasuring herself just as she was so obviously doing on the other side of the wall, except she'd be doing it for Jon, putting on a show of spreading her legs wide for him, maintaining eye contact and biting her lip.

Other times, he was very much a participant in his imaginings, with him being the one to entice those sweet moans from her lips instead of her battery operated friend. He'd think of licking her and sucking on that nub the way girls seem to like, covering her with the warmth of his mouth and fucking her with his tongue. He'd make sure she cried his name at least half a dozen times before sinking his cock into her to make Sansa Stark his - fucking her so that those pretty fairy lights she'd strung along her headboard got a thorough rattling.

Having that extra beer tonight may have been a mistake he thought as he realised just how fucking horny he was waiting for 10:30pm to arrive. Sansa had felt good about herself today - and rightly so with the feedback she'd had from her tutors on her draft dissertation.

Any Sansa was a sexy Sansa - but a happy, confident Sansa was off the scale to Jon. He just couldn't keep his eyes from her as she'd bounced merrily around the flat in her ridiculously short floaty summer skirt and camisole top which left Jon in no doubt that she was not wearing a bra.

Needless to say, Jon was more than ready when he'd heard Sansa's tv turn off, her bed creak slightly and then the drawer to her nightstand open before that familiar buzzing sound started.

Because she had been in such high spirits, Sansa had downed some of her preferred fruity boozey beverages herself that evening - the apparent effect being a slightly loosened tongue, as Jon heard a lot more vocalisation come through the wall than he was used to. Not that he was complaining, but he always liked to finish after her - her noises not making that easy.

Yes, the extra beer he'd had to help celebrate with her had definitely been a mistake. He realised this all too late though, as he came with a loud grunt and calling her name through gritted teeth.

He was still panting when he'd noticed that the buzzing of Sansa's toy had stopped - had she finished and he'd missed it?

There were a few long seconds of silence whilst he held his breath before he heard her tentative voice through the wall.

"Jon"?

 


	7. Teach Me - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd better start banging out these 'part 2' chapters!! :-)
> 
> This one picks up straight after part 1.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Jon thinks to ask her if there might be someone else who would be better suited to the task she has set before him. Someone not of kin - half or no. But as he ponders that possibility, scanning her pleading eyes and pretty pouty mouth whilst doing so, something hot and uncomfortable snags in his belly at the thought. He tells himself it is just brotherly protectiveness that ignites the scratch and twist of a feeling that he will not name as jealousy. But he knows. Deep down he knows that there's something terribly wrong with him for the fierce want that he is currently desperately trying to ignore.

Perhaps it's his bastard blood? That no matter how hard he tries, he could never be as honourable and virtuous as a true-born Stark?

And yet, here stands a true-born Stark in front of him, tempting his bastard thoughts to turn carnal and heated.

"How"? Jon blurts out.

"How"? Sansa mimicked in query.

"Yes, how?....how do you see me...teaching you"? He stutters. "I can tell you a few things but-"

"I'd like you to show me" she responds, cutting off his ramble as she twists her hips and bites her lower lip.

 _Gods! Does she know what she's doing? How...tempting she is?_ He thinks to himself as he continues to gape at her.

Shaking his head, Jon tried for another alternative "I'm not very skilled at diagram drawing Sansa" he suggests, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and peering up at her.

Sansa smiles and shakes her head "you know that's not what I mean Jon" she says, eyes once again wandering to his breeches as she takes one step forward. Jon gulps. Yes, he knew what she meant - as soon as he'd gotten over the shock of her request and began entertaining the idea he'd gotten hard at the mere thought. He definitely knew what she meant.

All he could do was nod at her in response. A sly smile emerged upon her lips and a playful glint danced in her eyes.

"Is that a nod as in 'yes, you know what I meant' or 'yes, I'll teach you'"? Sansa asked for clarification, although by the expectant look upon her face Jon suspected she already knew.

"Yes....I'll....I'll teach you" Jon murmured as thoughts of how much of a bad idea this actually was flooded his mind. Perhaps it was the lack of blood flow to his head currently, that made it so easy for him to ignore those reasons as he felt the swelling in his smallclothes intensify.

Sansa practically beamed at him and took another broad decisive step towards him, causing Jon to take a step back and knock into his desk. He grimaced a little.

"Are you nervous Jon"? Sansa asked coyly, suppressing a giggle.

"Well... this isn't exactly a normal type of interaction Sansa" he explained. Sansa stared at him, silently deep in thought before speaking again.

"Do you at least find me attractive?.....kinship aside"?

 _Yes, this definitely isn't a good idea._ Jon thought as he strung together his answering words in his head, evaluating them for their appropriateness before letting them loose into the room.

"I think you're beautiful"

It was a simple statement and one that, now he thought about it, didn't quite convey how stunning he actually found her.

Seemingly happy with Jon's words, Sansa pressed on.

"Shall we kiss then"?

Jon remained silent and still, not wanting to take the lead on any part of this endeavour.

"It's just...that's how Wallace's....it's what caused his..." she flushed a little and gestured with a nod of her head to Jon's breeches.

"Oh.... err....yes" he replied, licking his lips, unwilling to let on that there would actually be no need for any coaxing on that part, much to his shame.

Her lips were soft and her scent intoxicatingly pleasant as they began with short presses of mouth upon mouth. Sansa had her hands on his shoulders and Jon his on her waist - if for anything, then to keep her lower half from pressing against his, making his readiness evident.

Sansa began to deepen their kisses until they became one continuous creature. Jon soon developed an eagerness to taste her and have her tongue dance with his. He gave her lower lip a tentative lick eliciting a surprised but pleased mewl from Sansa.

Jon's mind numbed as they explored each others mouths, their kissing becoming more urgent. One of Sansa's hands slipped up to his hair, the tingle of her fingers drawing out a primal groan from his throat. Sansa pressed herself up against him, Jon's hands on her waist no longer willing to keep her at a distance.

"Oh" Sansa exclaimed as she peeled her lips from his and briefly glanced downwards and back up to Jon's face - a face that was rapidly heating from embarrassment of his body's eagerness.

"You're a very good kisser Jon" Sansa commented "much better than Wallace" she finished with a lick of her lips.

Jon felt a stab of pride as he mimicked Sansa with a swipe of his own tongue.

"So....what...what should I do now?....to please you"?

Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find words - any words.

"Should I touch you? Through your breeches?...or is that silly"? Sansa asked in a nervous rush.

"Yes, I mean, no - that's not silly Sans-" Jon's response fell victim to her sweet lips, which was just as well because the curses he may have uttered when Sansa snaked a hand down to palm and trace him through his clothing would definitely not be suitable language for a Lady to hear.

Before he knew it, Jon found that along with trying desperately to suppress his needy groans, he also had to keep reminding himself not to let his hands wander about her body.

Sansa broke her lips away from his and tried to stop herself from grinning at Jon's panting breath by biting her lip.

"Can I see you bare"? She asked with her hand still slowly rubbing his cock through his clothing.

"Sansa" Jon croaked in a pleading tone - pleading for what exactly he wasn't so sure? For her to stop or to carry on?

"Please Jon, I want to see what I'm touching" she said between persuasive presses of her lips, as if she knew the weight they carried with him. "Let me see your cock" she whispered wickedly into his ear as Jon was just now wondering exactly when she had become such a tempting minx. He nodded into her kiss and Sansa's wasted no time at all in deftly untying his breeches, not once breaking excruciating eye contact with Jon except to plant more kisses upon his lips.

Jon had to forcibly look away when Sansa dropped to her knees to pull down his breeches and smallclothes, letting his cock spring free. His head snapped back to look down at her when he heard a small gasp.

"Everything alright"? He breathed.

Then she looked up at him with those crystal blue eyes and _Good Gods_ if she wasn't a sight kneeling before him.

"Yes...would...would that fit inside me Jon"?

_Seven Hells - don't say things like that sweet girl!_

"Yes, it would" he answered quickly after clearing his throat.

Sansa continued to survey him curiously. Jon may have found it amusing if he wasn't so aroused at her proximity to his cock and the way her hands had come rest on his thighs.

He found the need to look away and repeatedly clench and unclench his fists as Sansa began running a finger up and down him, even running over his balls making his stomach muscles twitch.

"What should I do"? She finally asked looking back up at a slightly trembling Jon.

"Erm...well...you should start by licking or spitting in your hand" Jon supplied, a little amused at Sansa's surprised look on her face "it'll feel better" he concluded. Sansa opted to lick. "Then wrap your hand arou- FUCK" Jon bucked his hips at her eager contact.

"Is that alright"? Sansa asked as she began stroking him with a firm grip.

"Ye-Yes" Jon stuttered. Did she really need to be 'taught'? Jon knew Sansa to always be an eager and fast learner but her touch felt amazing without any instruction.

"Am I doing it correctly Jon?....Does it feel good"? She asked unnecessarily, looking up at his expression of pleasure - eyes closed and jaw slack.

"Gods yes" he answered in a strained whisper.

"Could I make you spill your seed like this"?

Jon couldn't find his voice so just gulped and nodded, keeping his eyes closed.

"What about like this"? Sansa asked before slipping her hand down to the base of him and pressing a firm lick of her tongue along the underneath of his shaft.

"FUCK!..Sansa! You...you don't have to do tha- ohhh Gods"! Jon yelped, perhaps a little too loudly as she took him into her warm mouth as completely as she could manage, gagging a little when he hit the back of her throat.

"But you seem to like it"? She said after releasing him, leaving him wet from her mouth as she peered up at his face, looking like some filthy version of her Mother's God, The Maiden.

"Yes...but you don't have to" he repeated in a hoarse voice before gulping. Sansa smiled up at him with that coquettish grin again and without saying a word or breaking eye contact, slowly took him into her mouth again, licking and sucking - leisurely at first, but gathering speed.

"Ah....shit...Oh......Oh Sansa! Oh Gods"! he chanted as she bobbed her head back and forth, his small chambers gradually being filled by obscene slurping sounds and Jon's ragged breathing.

"Oh!...Oh Gods sweet girl...Oh Sansa that's good" Jon continued, unable to control the babble of words spewing from his mouth as Sansa took him in hers and began humming around his cock. Before he had even registered that he'd moved, Jon noticed that he had both of his hands in her hair, grasping fistfuls of the cool silky mane. He'd always wondered what it would feel like.

 _She's going to kill me for messing her pretty hair._ He thought - not caring one bit - he'd die quite happily after being gifted such pleasure from her.

He forced his mind to wander - trying to prolong the inevitable when he will need to pull himself away from that heavenly mouth and finish messily in his hand. He thought of sparring, of mucking out stables, of cleaning a saddle, of -

"Fuck"! He yelled when Sansa's delicate hands joined in with her mouths game - one stroking him firmly up and down along with her lips and the other cupping and playing with his balls.

He peaked moments after - spending his seed in pulses and spurts in such a intense manner it left him quite breathless. And _Seven Hells_ \- _he'd done it in her mouth. He - a lowly Bastard - stood almost doubled over in pleasure, having just spilled inside The Rose of Winterfell's pretty little mouth!_

Panting hard, he looked down at her, realising his hands were still fists in her hair and released her quickly before standing straight.

"I'm..." he gulped "... _Oh Gods!_...I'm so sorry Sansa... I didn't mean to... _shit_...I apologise my Lady, I..." he stammered and stumbled until he was interrupted.

"Salty" Sansa deduced after swallowing his seed with a small snack of her lips "but not unpleasant".

Jon gaped at her as she rose from her kneeling position. She took one feminine finger and swiped the bit of his seed that had escaped her mouth at the corner of her lips before sucking her digit clean. Jon's gaping continued.

He blinked at Sansa as she nonchalantly moved to his wash basin and cleaned her hands before smoothing out her messed copper tresses whilst looking in his dingy little mirror. As if she hadn't just had her hands and mouth on him? As if she hadn't just made him peak so hard he feared he'll not be able to look at her in public ever again? As if she'd not just eagerly swallowed every last drop of him?

Jon shook his head as Sansa smoothed her slightly rumpled skirts. "Will you be doing that with Wallace"? He blurted, soon realising that he had no right to knowing the answer but feeling like he may want to bloody the stable boy's mouth for it anyway.

Sansa stopped her movements and gave him a warm smile before shaking her head. "...No...No, I don't think so".

_Good_

Sansa walked back to him and demurely pressed her lips to Jon's cheek - an action so chaste, it were as if she was thanking him for gifting her with a bunch of wildflowers or something (which he now felt the odd urge to do).

She began moving towards his chamber door so he scrabbled for his breeches to cover himself.

"I don't believe you need teaching anything Sansa...I think you quite...err...gifted in being able to please your future husband". Jon said, already silently hating the man who would wed her.

Sansa paused and angled her body to face him where she stood, with one hand on the latch. "Perhaps" she said "but practice makes perfect Jon" Sansa purred, opening the latch and turning the handle.

"See you tomorrow" she called as she closed his door behind her.

 


	8. Betrothals Can Be Broken, Secrets Can Be Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo - here's some smut.....

The first time Sansa had really cared to assess the hurt in his eyes as she'd declared Jon different and separate from her other Stark siblings was the beginnings of something new.

The thought that her own words had caused such pain triggered something to twist and scrape in her gut, so she sought to soften her demeanour towards him. To apologise and make amends. To blame her behaviour solely (and rather cowardly) upon her Lady Mother.

Who ever thought her turn about in attitude would lead to this? Sansa pondered briefly, almost a year later, as Jon bent her over a hay bale and hiked up her skirts.

She was already slick between her thighs from his kisses and mouthing of her breasts.

"It seems my Lady's little wanton cunt has soaked her fine silk underthings..." Jon breathed hot behind her ear. He always commented on her readiness for him. Sansa didn't mind - quite the contrary - she loved his filthy words, they uncoiled something hungry within her.

"You must rid me of them then" she purred over her shoulder. She smiled to herself as the loud rip tear noises filled the secluded barn. Sansa really wasn't sure why no one was yet to comment that all she seemed to be doing in her dressmaking sessions was mending her smallclothes or creating new ones.

"Hmmm... and what would your good Lady Mother think of you bending over for a bastard like me my Lady"? Jon practically growls as he smoothed his rough hands over her exposed milky white cheeks.

"I'd be punished" she breathes.

"Do you deserve to be punished my Lady"? Jon rasps. Sansa lowers her upper body down into the hay and nods. The fine hay tickling the bare skin of her teats where Jon had ripped and pawed at her laces.

"And why is that"? He teases.

"Becau...because I have improper thoughts about a Bastard boy" Sansa whines, pushing her hips back into Jon's hand as he reaches down between her legs.

"I see... and what about your betrothed Lord? Do you have improper thoughts of him"? Jon growls.

"No"

"Will you save your little cunny for him and him alone my sweet Lady"?

"No" Sansa groans as Jon's fingers slip inside of her.

He works his fingers in and out and then in and out again to glide up over her pearl - encouraged by her whimpers and the wet noises at his hand.

She's close to her peak now - Jon knows. He's learnt all the ways to bring her pleasure over the course of just a few months. He knows the pitch of her moans just before she explodes into a shuddering delight, crying his name. She's so close now - just as he pulls away his hand.

Sansa gasps and whines as that delicious feeling starts to fade away. He'll bring her back up to her peak - he always does.

Sansa squeals and fails at suppressing a giggle when Jon gives her arse cheek the first smack, making her flesh jiggle and colour pink. He growls and bends himself over her to nip at the skin at the back of her neck.

"Do you not care for your poor betrothed Lord's want for a pure, virtuous maiden"? Jon whispers.

Sansa wiggles beneath him in frustration, she has already ended two betrothals and refused the hands of countless men - still it irks him so, and who could blame him? Not only a bastard but her half brother - how could they ever be as they wish? So here they are in a pattern of secretive liaisons, giving all that they can to each other while they still can.

"Jon....I want you" she whines.

"Is my Lady wanton for me"?

"Yes" Sansa pants as she tries desperately to rub herself up against him.

Jon sucks in a long breath as he straightens himself and gives Sansa's other arse cheek a firm thwack drawing out a gasp and then a groan from her lips.

He likes to tease her, she knows. But she also knows that there comes a point with each encounter where he cannot contain himself, cannot wait any longer. Sansa deduced that time had come when all she could hear and feel behind her is frantic fumbling of laces and curses to the Gods on the subject of clothing and knots.

Sansa stifled a giggle forming in her throat. Her self satisfied grin was quickly wiped clean from her face and replaced with an open mouthed gasp when, without warning or preamble, Jon sheathed himself fully within her with one bold thrust, her slickness aiding the glide of his cock.

"Oh Gods...Oh Sansa" Jon muttered breathlessly as he stilled, his hands roaming and grasping her smooth flesh. Once his roughened fingers began to bite into her hips, Jon set a pace only known to men driven mad by lust. It was a madness that Sansa was quite willing to submit to and drown in as she bid him to take her faster, harder.

Jon lowered himself to pant filthy words into her ear. Words of his bastardy and how a Lady of her station should not so shamelessly offer her cunny to him. Of how he can tell it excites her to submit to his mouth, tongue, hands and cock.

She's close again, his hands slipping beneath her to knead her breasts as they move with his efforts and grunts. One of his hands stills her body's jostling by holding firmly onto her shoulder, intensifying the feel of his thrusts.

The barn fills with moans and strangled grunts as Jon finishes pulsing his seed within her and collapses upon Sansa's body alight with her own pleasure.

********

"How long until you are needed back at the castle my love"? Jon asks her, nosing her hair and reaching forward to hold her delicate hands in his own.

"Not long" Sansa sighs in answer, bringing their cluster of hands to her lips so that she may kiss his knuckles lightly. "You are wanted too" she adds suddenly, turning to see the confusion on his face.

Sansa shrugs at his unspoken question "Father says he and his guest, Lord Reed have something important to discuss with you".

 


	9. Increasing the Possibility- Part 2

Jon doesn't really remember how he felt when he delivered the final blow to the Night's King, causing his foe's icy body to shatter unnaturally and sending a bitter cold blast outwards for miles. That blast had thrown Jon's weakened body soaring backwards some considerable feet, his numbed head colliding with the thick trunk of a large gnarled oak tree with an echoing 'thump'. And then the world went black.

That was apparently three days ago - according to the Maester who was appraising Jon's wounds when he woke, the old man seemingly happy with the rate of healing to his head and a large gash on his thigh. Jon tucked in hungrily to the tray of food brought to his sick bed, feeding his battle weary body.

It was a day and a half later that he was hobbling his way as steadily as he could manage through the camp, every now and again being stopped and cheered by both his own men and Daenerys'.

Once he reached her tent, he was pleased to find that fatalities to Daenerys' retinue had been minimal, although they all - like him - seemed to be nursing a casualty or two.

"When do we retreat southward"? He blurted directly after greetings and well wishes. Impatient to put the battles behind him and heal in his own home.

"Four days time, Lord Snow" Tyrion replied, lifting his cup of wine and grinning - as if this answer would please Jon. It did not.

The Hand of the Queen's smile faltered when he noticed Jon's considerable frown. "We need to gather and identify our dead Lord Snow, the now unanimated Wights need to be dealt with and the men deserve some respite to rest, heal, mourn and celebrate before the arduous return home" he said, raising his cup once more before taking another large gulp.

Jon sighed, he could not argue with the Lannister, but it did not do anything to quell his desire to arrive at Winterfell's gates as soon as possible. To see Sansa once again. To find out if he was indeed a father.

Ravens rarely made it to their battle camp and none had come from Winterfell as yet. It had been just over ten moons since his departure from Sansa - ten moons since he'd seen her, really seen her, as she rocked back and forth bare breasted on his lap. When the rare occasion his mind had wandered from the battle plans and training had arisen, his thoughts had turned to Sansa, to the vulnerability she had shown him on his departure day, to the possibility of returning to Winterfell to meet a new little life that he helped to create, that was part of both of them.

He also wondered about the relationship that he would be going back to between himself and Sansa - hastily wed, bedded only thrice between the formality of war talk and council meetings. What kind of foundations of a marriage had they already forged?

As they dined that evening, Jon found it strange not to be discussing matters of great urgency, not to be second guessing an enemy and not to consumed with fear of defeat. He tried to join in with the jovial banter and raucous laughter but in truth, if he could not yet physically be home with his wife then he would rather be alone to think about her.

As he entered his tent late that night, weary from the cacophonous meal and not yet being fully healed, his hand instantly reached for Longclaw's pommel when he suddenly realised he was not alone.

Jon saw movement on his cot and it took him a little too long to realise that two women were playfully touching each others hair and pressing their lips together between giggles. They were both dark haired with bronze skin and appeared to be in an advanced state of undress.

"Oh! You're back Lord Snow" one of the women exclaimed in mock surprise as the other kissed her neck and squeezed her breast. Jon said nothing - his mind taking too long to keep up with the situation.

"Won't you join us"? The same, more bold seeming one of the two purred in a heavy accent, holding out one of her hands to him.

"What are you doing here"? He demanded after remembering how his mouth worked.

"I think you know" the talkative girl smirked as the other now tore her lips from her friends skin and looked at Jon curiously.

"I....I have not sent for..." he started.

"A whore?.....we are a gift from Queen Daenerys, she said you might be in need of a bed warmer or two to help you relax and enjoy yourself" the woman smiled seductively at him.

Jon screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath.

"I thank you but please leave" he forced out of gritted teeth "and tell Queen Daenerys that I am in no such need"!

Without any further words, Jon heard the rustle of the sheets and blankets as the women alighted his cot, he turned his back while they gathered their clothing and left him once again alone in his tent.

He sat on his cot staring at the floor for quite some time - wondering if he had been a fool for sending them away. Jon would then think of dazzling blue eyes and flame red hair and he knew he would gladly be the fool if it meant not hurting her.

*******

The first contact he'd had from his wife since Jon's day of departure arrived in the form of a raven the next day.

Sansa's script was beautiful and flowing, even if the contents were short and to the point - congratulating them on their victory, hoping that injuries are to a minimum and wishing him a safe and speedy journey home.

"No mentions of a babe"? Queen Daenerys asked abruptly when Jon had described the missive from his wife whilst breaking his fast with the Silver Queen.

"No... no mentions of a babe" he concluded in agreement. It was not something he could say he had overlooked when he first read the scroll - perhaps he was not ready to completely dismiss the notion that there could be a baby, but his Aunt was right - should he be a father, Sansa would not have kept it from him.

"Hmmm..." Daenerys hummed in thought "I've been contemplating this for a while.... should you wish it, I shall allow an annulment of your marriage to the Stark girl" the small Queen said before nonchalantly popping a grape into her mouth.

"What"?

Daenerys smiled warmly and placed a comforting hand upon his where it rested on the table. "Over the last few months I've come to be very fond of you nephew....I know that I forced you into this partnership and perhaps it was not the one you wished for". Jon just blinked in response so the Queen continued. "I should like to see you happy Jon, find a girl you love and remarry. I can wait a few years for heirs....not too long mind you" she finished with a wink and a grin.

"I...I..." Jon stammered, finding it difficult to string two words together. "What about Sansa"? He blurted "if our marriage is annulled, she will not have any favourable suitors to replace me... I couldn't do that to her".

"Oh nonsense"! Daenerys scoffed "the heir to Winterfell? Of course she'll have suitors! Besides, I'll make it known that any favourable match will have my Royal backing - she'll have a few to choose from I dare say".

"I will... I will have to talk to Sansa about this" Jon replied, raking a hand through his hair. Did he want this? No - he didn't think so... did he owe it to Sansa to offer her a way out of their forced marriage? Yes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this ones getting a part 3 :-)


	10. The Wall - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty-smutty-smut-smut!!!
> 
> I must apologise - any further updates and posts are likely to be delayed as I'm still getting used to now being a mum of 2.

He had left early the next morning and Sansa couldn't say that she blamed him for it - he was probably embarrassed - hell - she was embarrassed....unless....she had the situation all wrong? Jon couldn't really hear her using 'Mr Dependable' ..... he wasn't really listening to her get herself off... and he definitely hadn't been 'seeing to his own needs' just the other side of that wall - a wall that Sansa was only just now realising was waaay too thin.

But that was just it - what other explanation was there? It definitely sounded like he had come (and God help her if the thought of that hadn't caught her off guard as to how turned on she was by it) but she also heard him cry her name. HER NAME.... sleeptalking? No - that couldn't be it.

Even though she'd heard him leave the flat ridiculously and uncharacteristically early, she knocked tentatively on his door. Sort of hoping she'd misheard and he would open the door a crack with his adorable messy bed hair and that bewildered look she'd witnessed on his face the few times she'd woken him. Then again, perhaps it was better that he wasn't there Sansa concluded as she took one, then two steps into his room.

It was a complete mess by Sansa's standards but she was aware that they were stupidly high. Sansa sighed as she took in his open wardrobe door, the unmade bed, the near overflowing laundry basket and drawers left half pulled open - the urge to set it all straight coursed through her like an itch.

 _At least it smells good, Jon always smells good_ , she thought as she paused in the middle of his room listening to the radio she'd purposely left on in her own, perfectly tidy room. Not only could she hear the bass and tune of the song currently playing, she could clearly hear every word effortlessly sung.

 _Well shit_. How had she not figured this out before? Jon was fairly quiet but seriously? How could she not have known? _He doesn't even own a tv in here - he....he watches stuff on his laptop...with headphones - ah_.

Sansa's eyes scanned Jon's desk for his dinosaur of a chunky laptop. _That's strange... it's gone._

*******

Five days he'd been gone. Five days since Robb received a text message saying that Jon would be working on a joint presentation with Sam and it was easier to crash at his place to get it done. Five days since 'the incident'.

Sansa somehow found it damn near impossible not the think upon his absence. More than once she wandered into his room, perusing the books on his shelf and running a finger over the surface of his desk.

Over the period of Jon-less days Sansa found that she became less and less embarrassed about what Jon had been listening to. His continued absence however, was very telling.

Sansa had always thought Jon was hot - his awkward shyness only adding to his appeal and once she got to know him - know that he was also kind and pretty intelligent, she had gathered a healthy amount of annoyance at the whole 'living together' arrangement. _Don't shit where you eat_ , _Sansa_.

So she had resigned herself to that fate. Complicating things with Jon would only make it weird with Robb or worse still, unbearable if things ended up badly. No. Sansa would continue doing what she was good at - just being the friendly girl he lived with.

And that was almost enough, for a time. Sure, she allowed herself an indulgent peek every now and again - he looked particularly good when he returned from the gym, all sweaty and pumped up OR on the odd occasion she caught him leaving the bathroom after a shower with a towel slung low on his waist, his wet curls kissing his shoulders with droplets of water which seemed to race each other down his back and chest.......(not that she looked much of course).

But now? Now she'd heard her name on his lips, called in such a carnal needy way - all she could think about was all the ways she could make him cry out her name like that again. Those thoughts were the ones that flooded her mind while she continued to use 'Mr Dependable', and Good God did she come the hardest when she thought of shy, unassuming Jon Snow using that hot raspy voice to whisper filthy words in her ear as he fucked her hard and fast.

It was on day seven of 'The Great Jon Revelation of 2017' - as Sansa was now referring to it in her head - when her imagination needed more.

She knew she shouldn't. She knew she was taking a risk as she tucked 'Mr Dependable' into her robe and slipped next door into Jon's room. But Robb was away for the weekend - gone back home. Sansa only declined the invitation to join him because she had so much coursework to get through... that and she sort of, maybe wanted to see Jon when he returned.

Slipping off her robe and placing it neatly over Jon's desk chair, she clamoured into his unmade bed wearing only a tight baby pink camisole top and white lacy knickers.

She hummed pleasantly as she was surrounded by the scent of Jon, pressing her face into his pillow. Turning her head, she couldn't help but smirk when she caught sight of a balled up used tissue on his nightstand.

Sansa shimmied out of her panties and twisted the base of her battery operated friend to make him kick into life.

******************

"Shit!...Fuckity-fuck"! Came the voice in the dark, followed by the loud thud of something being dropped on the floor.

Sansa's eyes flew open and a chill flashed within the marrow of her bones - the kind of quick fear that only comes from being forcibly awoken from a deep, pleasant sleep.

 _Oh shitshitshit_! She thought as Sansa began to realise that she'd fallen asleep in Jon's bed after her little trip to 'self-pleasure town'. And now, right now, she was watching Jon hop about clutching one foot as he cursed whatever he had stubbed his toe on. He flicked on his lamp.

Jon had not yet noticed Sansa burrowed deep under his duvet but she only had a few more seconds to decide what the hell she was going to do before he did.

_Come on Sansa! You can do this. Seduce Jon fucking Snow and enjoy a real man and not your silicone friend!_

_You CAN do this!.....or maybe not....._

_Oh fuck it! Here goes nothing..._

"Well if you'd kept your room tidy it'd be a bit less of an obstacle course".

Jon wheeled round so fast Sansa barely saw the movement. His eyes were wide with fright and rather comically, he adopted some sort of martial arts/kung-fu defensive stance which caused Sansa's brow to raise and the corner of her lips to twitch into a smirk.

"Sansa!...wha...what are you doing...here"? He gulped.

She could almost hear his inner monologue as his cheeks flamed into red blotches - _what are you doing here.... in my bed... after I know you heard me moan your name while I jerked off?_

"Waiting for you Jon.... I missed you... why did you stay away"? She finished her purring with a little pout and hoped she didn't look and sound ridiculous.

"I err....I..." he stumbled.

Sansa slid out of his bed and thanked the stars that she had put her panties back on after her session - something told her that Jon's head might explode if she'd greeted him with her lady parts on display.

As it was she was watching Jon's brain short-circuit as she tried to 'saunter' seductively towards him while his eyes danced over her body - Landing for quite sometime on her legs, her lace panties and her rapidly hardening nipples poking through her camisole top.

"I.....Sam...." gulp "....project....".

Sansa had to giggle then. Good God he was adorable and his bumbling reaction only made her feel like some sort of sexy minx.

"So it wasn't because you got caught listening to me touch myself"? She asked with a bold look into his eyes - his eyes that quickly darted away from hers as his breathing shallowed.

"That..." he raked a hand nervously through his hair "....that...Sansa I..."

"I've been thinking about you, you know" she saved him from his own stuttering.

"You....you have"?

"Mm-hmm" Sansa nodded "I thought about you and how you moaned my name....I thought about it a lot while stroking myself...I also thought about what you were doing to yourself on the other side of that wall while getting myself off with my favourite toy".

"Sansa" Jon breathed, his voice hoarse and raspy. It sent a small shudder down Sansa's spine and she wanted to see how much further she needed to push him to act.

"Jon" she answered as she swiftly crossed her arms about herself, gripped the hem of her soft pink top and lifted it over her head.

Jon took a sharp inhalation followed by a shuddering exhale as he stared at her bare breasts.

Sansa took a step into his personal space and witnessed his hands twitch at his sides as if he were to lunge for her. He licked his lips still staring down at her breasts. Sansa could feel her nipples harden under his gaze.

"See anything you like"? She teased.

At that, Jon let out a feral noise - not dissimilar to a full on growl and crashed his body into hers, seizing her lips with his own - hungrily and with roaming hands. They bit into her waist, smoothed over her back and reached down to squeeze her ass cheeks whilst pulling her tight up against him. Sansa squealed and giggled into their kiss, she'd never seen this Jon Snow - he'd always been full of a kind, calm energy - even when he was being awkward and stumbling over his words.

This Jon was all over the place - or rather, all over Sansa. His mouth was currently on her neck, one hand cupping her breast with his thumb stroking her nipple. The other hand was bunched in her hair, grasping at it and tugging ever so lightly.

Sansa hummed pleasantly and rubbed her thighs together trying for some friction.

"You have too many clothes on" she almost barked out as a command.

Jon released her and studied her face for a few seconds. When all he was met with was Sansa's playful grin, the biggest, goofiest smile spread across his face briefly before his hands were a flurry shucking himself of his tshirt, unbuckling his belt and flustering at his jean buttons.

Jon was quickly stood before her in nothing but tight, pristinely white boxer briefs that did absolutely nothing to hide his thick cock as it strained against the fabric.

 _Whoa_ \- _that's_ _big_ , Sansa thought whilst trying not to stare and lick her lips - she failed at both and it did not go unnoticed as Jon crashed into her once more, this time walking her backwards towards his bed.

Sansa fell back onto his pillows and Jon swiped his balled up duvet out of the way and onto the floor, causing 'Mr Dependable' to roll out into the middle of his bed.

Jon cocked a brow and licked his lips "you know, all this time I never imagined this thing would be purple and sparkly" he said as he regarded Sansa's toy before setting it aside on his nightstand.

"All this time?.....how....how long have you been listening to me"? Sansa asked with a furrowed brow.

"Ummm..." Jon looked rather sheepish and a little worried as he hovered over her. "Since we moved in" he said quickly before wincing, perhaps waiting for Sansa to blow up at him and end whatever was about to happen.

"Since we moved in?.....eight months? You've been listening to me get myself off for eight months?! Oh GOD" Sansa covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. All this time? All this time she's been merrily trying to keep their relationship quite clearly in the friend spectrum and Jon had been listening to her during her most intimate moments?

"Are you mad"? He asked like a scolded puppy.

"I'm embarrassed" Sansa admitted behind her hands.

"Don't be....it's fucking hot...hand on heart the best part of my day - 10:30 weekdays, sometimes at the weekend...sometimes multiple times if you've been drinking".

Sansa's hands dropped from her face as she stared up at him. "I had a schedule"?!

Jon smiled his brightest of smiles before answering "you're a creature of habit" he shrugged.

Sansa narrowed her eyes "why didn't you DO anything about this"? She gestured between both of their bare chests.

"I... I guess I didn't think you'd be interested...and if you've not noticed I'm no Casanova with the ladies" he chuckled.

"I don't want Casanova" Sansa breathed as she hooked her long legs about his waist to draw him down to her. She swivels her hips to rub her lace clad centre against Jon's cock. "I want you".

His kisses are ferocious now, as if he's trying to prove a point. His mouth branding her where it lands and laps, nips and sucks. Mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, breasts.

"God you are perfect Sansa. So fucking perfect" Jon growls into her skin as she arched her back off of his bed and into his touch.

"Jon" she whines, rubbing herself more forcefully on him, pleading for more.

Jon takes the hint and without breaking his concentration or contact with her breasts snakes a hand down and slips it into her panties to play with her clit, rubbing in delicious circles with just the right amount of pressure to make Sansa moan and clutch at his hair.

"Mmm oh Jon"! Sansa groaned as his fingers slipped lower and pushed into her cunt. She knew it was her wetness that made his breath hitch at her throat.

Sansa's orgasm started in her toes and ran up her spine as Jon continued to pump his fingers as the heel of his hand kept the pressure on her clit.

"Oh God"! she squealed before her mouth formed a silent scream as her eyes stayed shut tight and she shuddered under his hand.

"Fuck Sansa! I need... if I don't..." he huffed in frustration.

Sansa gently pulled his face up so that she can look him in the eye. "Tell me... I want to hear you say it" she implores.

A few breaths pass between them, their faces so close as his eyes flit from hers, down to her mouth and back again. He swallows. "I want to be inside you... I want to fuck you". He watches her face for her reaction and must be pleased by the sharp intake of breath and the way she bites her lip so he rolls his hips into hers to add emphasis to his statements.

"Yes" is all she can breath out as she moves to rid herself of her drenched underwear and very uncharacteristically tosses them on the floor.

She cries out before biting down on her tongue when Jon sheaths himself fully inside her all too quickly.

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry"! Jon whispers through his panting.

"No"she lies.

He did - he's quite the size. But Sansa wasn't about to tell him - she doesn't want him to hold back.

"Do I feel good"? She asks him over the rattling of his headboard against the wall.

"So good Sansa, so good....Fuck" he growls through his slack jawed look of savouring bliss.

"Fuck me hard Jon" Sansa pleads.

Jon raises himself up and back so that he is kneeling. He grasps Sansa's legs under her knees and pushes them up and back as he pounds into her.

"Like this? Is this what you want sweet girl"? He rasps over the obscene noises of slapping flesh and wet cunt.

"Yes Jon! YES! Like that" Sansa cries.

Jon's breathing becomes ragged as he admits that he's close to coming.

"Mmmm yes come inside me Jon" Sansa purred. Jon gritted his teeth and shook his head. He wanted her to come too.

Jon suddenly let go of Sansa's legs and reached over for 'Mr Dependable'. With Jon still thrusting into her he pressed the head of her buzzing toy against her clit - it didn't take long and Sansa swore that people would most likely be able to hear both their cries for miles around.

"So that's why you like that thing so much" Jon said to the ceiling whilst still panting - laying next to Sansa, all sweaty with one arm draped across his forehead.

"You could feel that"?

"I could feel that" he nodded "I can see why you have a regular scheduled session with the thing".

Sansa batted his arm lightly as they both laughed.

Sansa moved to straddle Jon and lowered her lips to his. "Can I schedule a regular session with you"? She whispered with a grin.

 

 


	11. Increasing the Possibility - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon returns to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to keep the momentum going with this one - don't worry it's not finished :-)

It had not escaped him - the idea that perhaps - just perhaps - Sansa had not mentioned a babe in her missive so that the reveal would be even sweeter - so that it was something personal for just them once he returned home. It was a small hope, but one he grasped and held as he pushed his small group of men to ride harder towards Winterfell.

He'd left Queen Daenerys to her own leisurely pace, siting the need to check that the castle would be ready to receive her. In truth, he had no such concern - Sansa was aware of their upcoming arrival and he had no doubts about her hosting abilities.

As his horse clip-clopped into Winterfell's courtyard, he turned his jittery steed in circles, his head whipping this way and that, desperately trying to find Sansa. They were at least a day early than when she would be expecting everyone's return and the surprise on her face when he did lock eyes with her was evident.

Sansa was stood talking to the Stable Master, no doubt about the sudden influx of steeds they were to attempt to house. When she saw him she stood frozen like a statue from the crypt, the piece of parchment she had been grasping fluttered to the cobbled floor. Sansa suddenly took three quick steps towards him before freezing once more.

Jon slid from his horse and strode towards her. Halting in front of Sansa, he realised that he'd never seen her so uncomposed - not that anyone else would have noticed her slightly trembling hands as she wrung them together, the way her breath quickened and how her lips parted to let loose some words only to close again, trapping her voice in her throat.

A few misty breaths swirled in the space between them before Jon realised that he'd been gaping at her and neither of them had spoken. He'd been too busy taking in her every feature as if she was about to be snatched away and he needed to commit her to memory.  
Her vibrant flame red hair, her clear opal skin, rosy lips and cheeks and bright sky blue eyes - eyes that now shimmered with tears that threatened to fall. How had he not taken the time to see her before? To really see her?

"Sansa" he breathed, itching to touch her, to hold her and never let go like she is the anchor to all that is good and pure and lovely - the antithesis of the past months of war.

Just as he makes his mind up to reach out to her and take her hands in his, something seems to click into place with Sansa - her composure returning before his eyes.

"Jon...we were not expecting anyone until tomorrow". She said, forcing her hands to stop twitching by using them to smooth out her skirts.

The Stable Master nods at both of them and retreats to a tack room. Sansa takes a long shuddering exhale and suddenly grasps his forearm with a squeeze "you came back" she smiled a watery smile, her eyes dancing around the fresh scars on his face.

Their conversations over the first few hours of Jon's return consisted mainly of how Winterfell had coped with the many poor souls who'd fled from The Gift and other areas, seeking the protection of the castle and their Lady. Sansa had done all that she could and more, never turning anyone away and somehow finding enough to keep bellies from being completely empty.

They did not touch upon the horrors that Jon had endured, Sansa somehow knowing he was not ready to recount it.

********

Jon had requested a hot bath for his weary muscles that evening. Sighing at the sight of his chambers, The Lord's Chambers - he wondered if they would ever become 'their' chambers.

He was reminded of Daenerys' 'offer' of annulment once he had lowered himself into the steaming hot water with a groan. He could dismiss it - he WANTED to dismiss it and never breathe a word of the notion again. But that was not fair. He had to at least mention it to Sansa - let her decide. The Gods know she didn't have much of a choice when it came to entering their marriage. No, she can have a choice now - he can give her that much at least.

Jon hadn't realised that he'd fallen asleep in the water until he was awoken by a gasp and someone calling his name. He coughed and spluttered out the now tepid water that had come up to just under his nose as he'd apparently slumped sleepily into the tub.

"Sansa"! Jon exclaimed once realising who it was that had saved him from his bathtub slumber. He grabbed the wash rag from the side of the bath to cover himself below the water as he sat up.

"It will be a peculiar song, will it not"? Sansa asked with a smirk. Jon looked at her quizzically. "The hero who defeated the threat of the dead beyond The Wall, only to drown in the bath"? Sansa said with an amused cocked brow.

Jon made a noise somewhere between a huff and a snicker. "I think perhaps I'm more fatigued than I realised" he said almost to himself.

Sansa's features softened "you're allowed to be tired Jon". She walked towards him, Jon's hand instinctively held onto the washcloth that was covering him. Sansa ducked her head and smiled to herself.

She knelt behind him and picked up the soap and lathered it on Jon's aching back. There was almost silence while she worked his muscles with the slippery suds, kneading and smoothing - Jon couldn't help the odd groan of satisfaction.

When her hands came up to his shoulders, Jon reached an arm across himself and place his large hand on her delicate one where it stilled on his shoulder. "There is no babe"? He asked, only turning his head a fraction.

The pause Sansa took before answering spoke of her own disappointment. "No Jon, there is no babe...I'm sorry".

"You have nothing to apologise for Sansa" he squeezed her hand for emphasis just before she moved it from his grasp and returned to her ministrations. "I was hopeful....I did not bleed the first month...but it came to naught".

"I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault...it's no-ones".

"Sansa" Jon started deciding that if he doesn't say it now, he may never get the words out "Daenerys has given me...has given _us_ an offer..." he gulped and stared down into the water that was gradually turning milky from the soap.

"An offer"? Sansa parroted in query.

"Yes... she....she is aware that ours is not a love match" Sansa's hands stilled "and that there could be....tensions....considering our history as siblings...and...and what with you not yet being with child..."

"Jon" Sansa interrupted his rambling "what did the Queen offer"?

"An annulment" he breathed quickly, his words followed by a few beats of charged silence whereby Jon was both scared and sorely tempted to look behind him at her expression. He opted to stay still and watched the beads of water drip from his hair.

"Oh" she finally said, the one word softly piercing the silence followed by the quiet splashes as she plunged the soap back into the water.

"And what do you think of the offer"? She asked his back.

"I...." _I want to dismiss it...I want to tell the Queen she can keep her sodding offer and take it with her back to the South...I don't want to loose you....but you deserve a choice.._. "I think you should consider it....consider what would make you happy".

The quiet that followed Jon's words was almost unbearable. His brain scrambled for something to say to fill the void when suddenly Sansa rose to her feet. "The water is cooling rapidly Jon, I wouldn't stay in there too much longer". She strode quickly across the room as she spoke, turning to face him as she met the door "I'll have Betsy bring supper to you - I expect you'll want your rest".

And with a click of the door she was gone, leaving Jon cold in the bath.

*************

Daenerys and her men's arrival broke the morning's peace. Jon was still abed, he had expected to sleep soundly considering how tired he felt, but his slumber fell into a pattern of fits and starts. He groaned at the noise outside his window - noise that reminded him of war and horrors....and possible annulments.

After stumbling about his chambers, finding some newly made clothes that could have only been created by his wife - _his Sansa_ \- he splashed the sleep away from his face with the icy water from his wash basin and ambled down to the Great Hall.

And there she was, flame haired and beautiful and welcoming the Queen - another fierce beauty who seemed to want nothing more than to disrupt Jon's life time and time again - even if it is perhaps meant with kindness.

Jon does not miss how Sansa's welcome smile falters slightly as she notices him approach.

"Jon! Sansa was just telling me how some of her men had managed to hunt three stags and five boar for a feast she is holding for us tonight - a much welcome change to that thin broth we've been fed on for the past three months"! Daenerys announced happily by way of greeting him.

Jon saw a flicker of irritation pinch and then disappear just as quickly upon Sansa's face. The implication being that those at Winterfell had not had such hardships.

"And a fine feast it'll be I'm sure" he started "Sansa is very skilled at making guests welcome - even in the most dire of times. I'm sure t'was nought but broth that fuelled the bellies of those lucky hunters".

Jon was pleased to see a small, grateful smile quirk on Sansa's lips, even if her eyes stayed fixed upon the stone flagged floor.

"Yes....well the fingers of war stretch far I suppose" Daenerys said dismissively.

"Indeed they do your Grace".  
Sansa said in a pleasant voice that Jon could tell was masking her irritation. "Please do excuse me, I need to see to a few of our serving girls".

Daenerys raised one brow in question.

"Not all fathers and husbands return from war your Grace" Sansa flicked her eyes momentarily towards Jon "the girls must know that they're not alone in their grief". And with a quick curtsy and a flurry of skirts she was gone.

"She's an impressive Lady" Daenerys said almost admiringly.

"Aye, she is" Jon agreed, his eyes still trained on the doorway in which she left them.

"She'll have no issues in finding a husband should you both agree to annul....if that's what you're worried about Jon" she placed her hand on his forearm.

Jon clenched his jaw, not knowing whether the uncomfortable feeling was born out of her words or action. "It's not" he said gruffly as he shrugged out of her grasp and all but stormed out of the hall. Leaving the Queen looking quite dumbfounded.

 

 

 


	12. Persuade Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo my body-clock has gone bananas and I wrote this at 3am.... quickly....without too much thought....sorry if it's rubbish!

How had her simple idea turned to this? Sansa pondered as she gazed up intently at the canopy of her bed.

All she had done was suggest a few 'trials' - a few 'tests' to see whether they would both be comfortable with their plans.

Being cousins and marrying was no issue - no issue at all. Having been raised as siblings and marrying? This could pose a threat to their cautiously laid plan to wed and secure Jon to the North.

They could, of course, be husband and wife in name only but they knew that the Lords would not have it - the lack of an heir.

They could rule side by side. They could rebuild Winterfell together. They could enjoy each other's company - but could they share in each others flesh and create life together? The answer was unknown.

And so Sansa suggested that they 'test' the possibility and see how they both felt about the situation before entering into a life long promise binding themselves to each other.

It started with chaste pecks - funny how even they brought a blush to her cheeks. Sansa wasn't sure if her reaction was caused by embarrassment or the realisation of just how full and sensual Jon's lips where as he pressed careful kisses to her own. Perhaps it was a bit of both, seeing how her thoughts quickly descended to those lips being parted with panting breath as he moved above her.

_Good heavens Sansa! He's your brother... cousin - it's cousin now._

"You're tense" he commented quickly, ducking his head to look her in the eye and stroking his hands up and down her arms.

"I'm fine" Sansa dismissed. Jon narrowed his eyes.

After a bit too much silence from him, Sansa was forced the break the quiet.

"Is this going to work? Jon, I don't know if I can do this". It was the truth - her feelings towards Jon were mixed with a sizeable glob of guilt that slicked down her throat uncomfortably every time she allowed herself to think upon him in a romantic or - dare she admit it - carnal way.

Jon's eyes fell to the floor and he looked deep in thought.

"Do you want to stop then? I won't force you Sansa...if....if you don't want to....if you couldn't....with me... then we'll find another way". Jon huffed out the last words and for the first time a certain thought crossed Sansa's mind.

"Jon...could you....do that with me? Do you want to"? Sansa asked tentatively.

Jon's cheeks flamed pink as he gave a shy smile to the stone flagged floor.

"You are very beautiful Sansa...."

"But I am...I was your sister"?

"Yes..... but....did you ever feel a great sisterly affection for me back then? ... please....please don't misunderstand me - I cared for you...very much... but.... I did not feel the same for you as I did Arya..." Jon smiled at his memories of his little sister - for that's what she would always be. "It....it pained me, back then, the way it was between us, because of..."

"My mother" Sansa interrupted in a sad tone "Jon I'm sorry, I'm sorry for how I treated you back-".

Jon swallowed her apology with a kiss, a kiss that was not so chaste this time. His lips fit with her impeccably, his tongue slid into her mouth to taste her and before she knew it, he'd coaxed her own tongue into his - she gasped and pushed him away when Jon began to gently suck on it with a groan.

Sansa's hand flew to her mouth as she stared at Jon with questions in her bright blue eyes.

"I apologise" he started, running a nervous hand through his hair "Sansa....what I meant was...was that I'm grateful that I did not feel that way - brotherly - towards you...I am now at least...now that we might marry" his words tumbled out in a nervous flurry as his eyes flitted between Sansa and the floor, the hearth....and...her cleavage?

"How....how do you feel then? Towards me? If not brotherly"? She asked.

Jon did something then that she'd not witnessed since their reunion - he blushed, a deep blotchy red colour that was so endearing she itched to cup his flaming cheeks in her cool hands as he stared at his own feet.

"I think you know" he all but whispered to the floor before looking up at her sheepishly through his lashes.

"Oh" Sansa squeaked, feeling her own face rise in temperature.

"How do you feel about that"? He asked nervously.

"I...." she started, looking him up and down. Could she squash those feelings of guilt? Could she silence the whispers she heard in her mother's own voice - 'bastard brother', 'wrong' and 'wicked'? "I honestly don't know Jon".

It was Jon's crestfallen look that forced her next words past her lips - and she hadn't even meant it that way - the way he had taken it.

"Maybe you could persuade me"?

"Persuade you"? Jon asked with no small amount of hopeful cheek in his voice.

**********

Sansa remembers her blush at his implication- she truly hadn't meant it that way - a challenge to change her mind by doing...things...things with her and to her...but right now - as she lay on her bed, panting, bodice ripped open, nipples wet from Jon's mouth, a mouth that was now performing some sort of delightful magic between her trembling thighs - she was more than glad Jon was up for the challenge.

 

 


	13. Persuade Me - The Dirty Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is 'Sansafeels' fault as she asked for more details on the sexy shenanigans of the last chapter! 
> 
> Plus I kinda fancied writing some smut :-D
> 
> Somehow I've made Jon more cheeky and brazen than I normally do.... I kinda like it ;-)

"Lay back" he asked, licking his lips, only adding the 'please' once he'd noticed Sansa's skeptical look.

She huffed and flopped backwards on the bed, her arms above her head.

What could he possibly do to change her mind? To erase the guilt that what would be expected of them would be wrong - _they were raised as siblings, the Seven help them!_

She was staring up at the canopy of her bed when she felt the dip of his weight and suddenly his handsome face was in her view. She could objectively acknowledge him as handsome she thought as he lowered his lips to hers - she knew Robb was fine to look upon but that piece of knowledge didn't light a little flame in her gut like this did. _Seven Hells Sansa! Don't think of Robb! That'll only make this worse!_

Sensing her slight discomfort, Jon pulled his mouth from hers and looked down at her with concern - perhaps he really wasn't able to persuade her? 

He narrowed his eyes in determination, his next action could only be called one thing - an attack.

Sansa's surprised yelp turned into a wanton moan when he very suddenly started kissing and lapping at her throat. One of her hands flew to her mouth, surprised by the noise she'd made, the other clutched at Jon's hair quite of its own volition. Jon growled and chuckled his small victory and carried on exploring her skin.

By the time the scratch of his beard and the attention of his mouth reached her bosom, her chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Have I persuaded you yet my Lady"? He asked the tops of her breasts in between licks and kisses.

"Perhaps" Sansa answered with closed eyelids.

Jon answered with another growl "I think we can do better than 'perhaps'".

His hands came to the laces at the front of her bodice where he all but ripped the article of clothing open and then tore at her undershift.

"Jon"! Sansa yelped, her hands flying to cover her exposed breasts.

"I'll buy you new clothes" Jon dismissed in a gruff, urgent voice. "I'll need those" he raised an eyebrow and gestured with a nod towards Sansa's chest.

Sansa slowly removed her hands and couldn't deny the sudden wetness between her legs when she saw the pure desire that Jon's gaze was laden with. He gently cupped one of her breasts, the contrast between his rough hand and her soft skin was delicious. Jon's eyes flicked to hers when he caused a small gasp to escape her lips by rubbing his thumb over her light pink nipple. Keeping eye contact, he licked his lips and repeated the action.

Sansa wasn't sure what was happening to her body but she couldn't help the way she arched her back, pushing her chest further into Jon's touch.

_What are you doing Sansa?! You're acting wanton...with Jon... you can't... you shouldn't... you- OH!_

Sansa peered down to see Jon's black curls bent low as his mouth covered her teat and - _oh Gods! That felt warm and wet and oh so good!_

Again, Sansa's body began to move of its own accord - her hands clutching once again at his hair, her legs coming up to wrap around Jon's hips and then her own pelvis began twirling and grinding, trying to find some pressure against him to satisfy the hunger building within her.

"Mmmm Sansa....that's it... oh Gods sweet girl how I've wanted you like this" Jon confessed as he nuzzled the side of her breast.

"You...you have"? She asked her bed canopy, her hips stilling.

"Yes... it's quite scandalous the amount of time I've thought about you....about kissing you and tasting you and fucking you" he continued, pressing his hips into hers for emphasis.

"Jon"! Sansa chided, even though the feel of him against her was wholly and completely pleasant... and she could hardly deny his dirty words didn't make her sex tingle.

"What"?! He asked, raising his head "oh I'd make love to you too sweet girl... and it'd be tender and lovely just like you... I'd treat you right - you know I would" Jon whispered as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and leant down to kiss her sweetly. "But you must know by now what you do to me... a man can only take so much when his blood is up Sansa... I should very much like to fuck you, lose myself inside you.... is that terribly wicked"?

"Yes" Sansa breathed through parted lips. Jon's chuckle was a rumble in his throat.

"Well then... I'll gladly be labelled wicked if it means I can be inside you or sup at your cunt"

Sansa gasped at his words, her hips started grinding again. Jon raised one brow as he looked at the aroused expression on her face.

"You like it when I talk like that don't you"? He asked, slightly amused. Sansa didn't answer him so he bent his lips to brush her earlobe and whisper more filthy words to her.

"Would you like me to taste your pretty little cunny Sansa"? Jon growled in her ear as his hand began lifting her skirts and searching for her core "I bet it is pretty too... pretty and pink and...Gods! So wet"! His fingers found her and pushed aside her ruined smallclothes, parting her folds and dipping a finger inside her to bring her slickness up to her sensitive pearl where he rubbed with the flat of his fingers.

"Fuck"! Sansa cried as she bucked into his hand.

"My Lady also has a filthy mouth it seems" he teased before nipping at her earlobe. "Lets see what other words I can pull from you" Jon said before kissing his way down her torso and disappearing under her skirts.

At the first swipe of his warm tongue on her pearl he'd 'persuaded her' - but Sansa wasn't about to tell him that now... it is rude to interrupt after all.


	14. The Facility - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern (future dystopian) au
> 
> This first chapter of The Facility is a bit of a Prologue.....

Just simply surviving the nuclear fallout wasn't enough it seemed. The Government now had an agenda - an agenda that Sansa was just now realising might be more sinister than she ever imagined.

"Did you hear that bullshit Mordane was spewing about fulfilling our destinies and doing our duty"? Margaery whispered in Sansa's ear while they were lining up in the cafeteria area for their carefully balanced rationed food and prescribed vitamins. Sansa only nodded and hugged her empty food tray to her body until it was time to gather her lunch. Her eyes darted towards all the guard posts as if they could hear Margaery's blasphemous words.

Margaery (or Marg as she insisted on being called) was the only other girl at the facility that had attended the same school as Sansa. They had both been in their Sixth Form Art Class when the Government officials burst into the room, separated the male and female students and started the apparently compulsory 'testing'.

Sansa was a bright girl, she had a feeling that when they were all being told that their families knew what was being done to them and where they were going that the words were most likely not strictly true.

She remembered eying the stern looking guards at the door before she complied to her test and placed her legs in the stirrups. The 'doctor' disappeared under her hospital gown with the torturous looking speculum. It wasn't that bad - probably like a smear test, she mused - apart from the fact that it seemed like she was unable to refuse this test should she want to - what with the guards and all.

"Ding ding ding - we have a winner" Sansa remembers Dr Qyburn saying while still between her legs, the sting from his examination not yet subsiding. He gestured towards the guards and that's when they took her away and delivered her to the facility - wherever that was.

"I don't know what their game is yet but I'll figure it out" Marg said with a smirk "whatever it is, it won't be pleasant - of that I'm sure" she said, her expression darkening considerably.

"What makes you say that"? Sansa whispered almost inaudibly.

"Anytime someone prattles on and on trying to convince you to 'do your duty' - you know your 'duty' will be about as fun as peeing on a spark plug" Marg finished with a nod. Sansa couldn't bring herself to disagree.

The daily doses of injected unknown drugs started two days later. She knew they were being groomed for something... but to what end?

The reality hit after a time, when each girl was issued a small pamphlet entitled "Increasing the Possibility by Dr Pycelle". Sansa sat on her single cot with the hard mattress and the blue scratchy wool blanket in her cell and flicked through the booklet. A diagram caught her eye - it was a crude outline drawing of a woman with her legs in the air and propping her pelvis up with her hands like some sort of gymnastics pose. _What on earth?_

It was then that she actually forced herself to read the words... and that's the first time she allowed herself to give into her fear and tears. She wanted her family... she had learnt to be strong but good God did she want her mother's soft words and her father's strong hugs.

' _Assuming the position in the above diagram can aid fertilisation by making use of gravity. Best adopted directly after the seed is ejaculated and held for at least 3 minutes or as long as possible'._

So this was their 'duty'.

**********

Only being let out of their individual cells for meals, meds and lectures made for endless dull days. Sansa used to look forward to the lectures for something to do - but since their purpose there had been revealed, all lessons were centred around fertility, procreating and pregnancy. She was just about sick of it.

Guard Mordane explained that after the fallout, fertility was an all time dire low and that ' _you girls'_ are the ' _lucky ones_ ' to still have functioning reproductive systems. Sansa didn't feel particularly lucky.

*********

Sansa hadn't seen one single man or boy for almost a month before Captain Stannis Baratheon came to take over their lecture. Something important was about to happen, she could feel it as she tried to ignore the murmurs and whisperings going on amongst the women around her and concentrated on the Captains's uniform and many badges of honour displayed on his chest.

"Quiet" he bellowed and the silence rang true "now, as you have all gathered by now, you young ladies are here to perform your duty to your country and indeed the human race" he paused and Sansa heard Marg tut quietly where she sat next to her. "Tomorrow will mark the start of the second phase of the programme" Stannis continued to address the group of around 50-60 young women "you will each be introduced to your Breeding Partner for your first sessions" the cafeteria area where they held the lectures was silent, the tension thick in the air as if you could reach out and swirl your hand in it.

"Now" the Captain continued "some of you may not care about the desolate state of our population and birth rate and not be willing to co-operate - to those, I would like to say this... you young women and the young men ( _men? Where the hell are they)?_ being housed here at the facility are the first wave of the programme. None of you are under the age of 18.... should the number of you who are unwilling to participate be too great, then we shall have no choice but to lower that age limit to replace the uncooperative". He paused and looked as though he was attempting to look each and every woman in the eye. "Think of your younger sisters, friends and cousins and reconsider your actions".

Sansa thought of her sister Arya - she would have just turned 15. Her gut twisted uncomfortably - she missed her terribly and now she feared for her too.

*********

Sansa was an absolute bag of nerves the next day having not slept a wink the previous night... that and the fact that any moment now she was going to be forced to have sex with someone for the first time. This definitely wasn't how she imagined losing her virginity.

All night she'd envisaged Captain Baratheon's stern face huffing and puffing above her - him being the only man she'd seen in a month. The thought terrified her.

She was just realising that she'd forgotten a lot of things about men - masculine smells, broad shoulders and the lower timber of their voices when the door to her cell was rather unceremoniously yanked open.

"Female Patient 88, Breeding Partner Male Patient 34" came a man's voice who was obviously reading from a list and then a man was pretty much picked up and thrown into her cell with her. He landed with a thud on the floor at her feet. Sansa didn't take her eyes from him as she heard her door being bolted closed again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo - enter Jon-you're-gonna-have-to-make-a-baby-with-me-Snow :-)
> 
> Also - in this au artificial insemination and other fertility practices are not an option - because of reasons. Lol! Just go with it!


	15. The Facility - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Sansa's breeding partner...

 

"Fuck" the man muttered to himself as he rose to his feet and brushed his hands off on his beige regulation clothes that remind Sansa of hospital scrubs (or more aptly - prison uniform) as he straightened up.

He wasn't overly tall but he looked as though he took care of himself and probably owned a gym membership back on the outside. He had dark hair that was just about long enough to be pulled into a knot at the back of his head. His face was framed by the scruff of his beard and his deep brown eyes looked equal parts nervous and defiant.

"Hi" squeaked Sansa.

 _Why did that sound so lame?_ She thought as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her own delightful regulation t-shirt. _A vision in beige._

The man nodded in response, his eyes momentarily darting around the room before landing back on Sansa. He zeroed in on her hands that were still twitching nervously, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, he took two big strides and started thumping on the door with an angry fist, making Sansa jump and fold her legs into herself, hugging them to her chest protectively.

"You fucking bastards!.... _Thump-thump-thump_...She's terrified, what have you done to her?!... _thump-thump_...you can't do this!....we won't be forced...do you hear me?!.. _thump-thump_...you can't fucking do this"!

He huffed, resigned to the fact that no one was listening to him on the other side. His shoulders slumped and he rested his forehead against the grey door before turning round and sliding down it to sit on the floor.

"I won't touch you" he mumbled behind his hands as he swiped them down his face.

Sansa watched him while he stared intently at the floor, an ocean of silence seemed to pass between them before Sansa decided to bridge it. "What will happen then.....if you won't touch me"? She asked nervously.

The man shrugged "you won't get pregnant" he said, finishing his words with a smile that didn't penetrate the sadness in his eyes.

Sansa nodded to herself. "And you think they'll let us get away with that"? She asked.

"Probably not, but what are they gonna do"? The man said, holding his knees.

"They pretty much threatened my younger sister" she let slip.

That got his attention. His head snapped up "what"?

Sansa nodded and licked her lips nervously "yea...they said if too many of us are...unwilling....then they'll have to lower the age limit and that we should think about our younger friends and relations before we make any decisions". Sansa lowered her head to contemplate her hands "I don't want my sister in place like this" she whispered.

Sansa looked back at the man and saw the muscle in his jaw moving while he clenched it in thought.

"I won't touch you" he repeated "I won't....force myself on you....you don't want this...no one wants this for fuck sake" he rakes a slightly shaky hand through his hair after taking the knot out at the back. His dark hair is curly and dishevelled.

Sansa licks her lips before speaking "if you don't, they'll just reassign me with a different Breeding Partner who will".

"Fuck"! he shouts, slamming an elbow backwards into the door, making Sansa jump halfway up the bed. His head snaps to her at her movement before he mumbled an apology.

There's a thick silence between them and Sansa swears she can almost hear the cogs ticking over on his head.

 _Better him,_ she thinks - _better him than some pushy fuckboy or someone violent, at least he's sympathetic._

 _He's quite handsome really,_ she admits. _If circumstances were different I might-_

"How would they even know"? He says, cutting through her thoughts.

"What"? Sansa blushes

"How would they know if we've done anything or not?...I mean....you wouldn't get pregnant sure, but it could buy us some time to...to-"

Sansa had slid off of the bed and walked over to the corner of her cell while he had been rattling out his half-baked plan. He noticed her then when she was looking back at him and pointing up to the surveillance camera with the small green blinking light as it pointed towards Sansa's single bed.

The man got up off of the floor and walked over to her, mouth agape at what she was showing him.

"Fucking perverts"! He growled through gritted teeth. "Not content with forcing us to fuck - they want to watch it too"?! His voice was gradually getting louder and more irate. Sansa began to shrink back towards the bed, flinching as he began his tirade of angry words directed at the camera.

"How are they getting away with this"?! He asks his upturned palms. "I will not be treated like a fucking horse out for stud" the man directed his angry words to the camera with a pointed finger.

"I guess that makes me a brood mare then" Sansa commented.

The man looked at her like he had been so deep in his rage that he forgotten she was there. Perhaps he had. He closed his eyes and took a long slow inhale and exhale before speaking "I'm sorry....you've....you've got it much worse than me....".

"Well yea....all you've got to do is fuck me on camera" Sansa bit out, finding it too difficult to mask her annoyance. The man winced a fraction at her words and her tone.

"Well...not exactly.... I'd....we would still have a child out there somewhere that I'd never know... I mean, what are they going to do with all these kids? Have they got some sort of factory sized nursery staffed with an army of wet nurses somewhere"?

Sansa frowned at the floor "I...I thought I'd get to go home with the baby" She spoke her thoughts out loud.

The man's face softened "I hope you're right.... but I wouldn't put it past them to get you pregnant again".

"Oh" was all Sansa could say at that notion, a wave of fear washing over her face as she contemplated an endless future of pregnancies and birth only to have the children snatched away from her each and every time. He was watching her intently, she could feel the weight of his deep brown eyes on her, but she didn't care at that moment. The tears began to fall away and turn into sobs.

Sansa wasn't sure how long she had been crying.... or how long he had held her for. All she knew was that his embrace was almost as comforting as her father's, he smelt nice and that there was a patch of darker beige on his shoulder where her tears had bled into the hideously utilitarian fabric.

"Hey" he said softly with a smile as she peeled herself away from him "where do you live?... on the outside....if you're right and they let you go...I wanna know where you and the baby are".

"I thought you weren't going to touch me"?

"I don't want to" he countered.

It was weird how his words stung... of course he wouldn't want to touch her under these conditions! But she was feeling fragile and wasn't able to stop herself before she spoke. "Why not"?

"Why not"? He repeated "are you really worried that I don't find you attractive"? He asked, a little amused.

She didn't know where it came from, but Sansa started giggling "yes.....isn't that ridiculous"?

The man smiled in return "a little".

Her door suddenly unlatched and swung open, crashing into the wall causing both of them to jump in their skin. Sansa's laughter died a quick death.

The guards looked at both of them fully clothed and sat on Sansa's small bed, they had a look of disappointment in their features.

P _robably hoping to catch us fucking_. Sansa thought as her features hardened.

Two of them strode in and took the man roughly by the elbows. He only struggled a little.

"I'm Jon by the way" he called over his shoulder whilst being jostled away.

"Sansa" she called out in reply.

"Sansa?....I think you're beautiful Sansa"! Jon called back into her cell after he had been removed.

 


	16. The Facility - THE LAST CHAPTER POSTED ON HERE

**NOTICE - Hey everyone - this is the latest chapter to The Facility but as I have now separated this fic from my 'ficlets collection' and added it as a stand alone, this will be the last The Facility chapter that I post in this location :-)**

**Just a heads up!! :-)**

****************

 

"Robb? My brother Robb? Robb Stark...Robb's here"? Sansa asked Marg loudly and frantically whilst gripping her friend's arm.

"Sssshhhhhht" commanded the guard who was pacing up and down the queue for breakfast, keeping the women in check. Sansa let go of Marg and lowered her eyes to the floor.

"Yes" Marg whispered once the guard moved on, "he's my...um...Breeding Partner". Sansa turned to see Marg blush possibly for the first time ever. She couldn't believe it - _Robb is here!_ Sansa felt like she could burst into tears - _Robb is here...a piece of home is here_!

"Did you tell him I'm here"?

"Yes, he wants to know who your Breeding Partner is" Marg replied.

Sansa furrowed her brow "why"?

"Another avenue to send messages to each other, besides me" the brunette shrugged. "Plus, he wants to have a stern talk with him".

Sansa couldn't help but roll her eyes a little - _typical Robb._ "What's the point in that? I'm going to have to sleep with him aren't I? What can Robb do about it"?

A sudden thought stormed through Sansa's mind "Did you guys..."?

Margaery looked around to gauge where the guards were and bent her head close to Sansa's "We pretended" she whispered.

"Pretended"?

"Yea....you know...we covered ourselves with the blanket and made it look like we were doing the deed" Marg explained before straightening her posture and smoothing her regulation uniform.

_Oh. Jon and I could do that._

Sansa just nodded in response.

"So what's his name"? Marg reminded Sansa.

"Oh, Jon" she replied.

"Second name"?

"I don't know" Sansa fidgeted and licked her lips "I'll find out".

Ridiculous! I'm expected to let this guy get me pregnant and I don't even know his surname!

Marg nodded back at her "and I don't think it's just because you'll be 'pro-creating' with this Jon guy that Robb will want to keep tabs on him" she said whilst raising her brow and gesturing towards a girl that was making her way to a table, tray of food in her hands. A brutal pattern of purple bruises mapped their way up and down her arms. "Apparently some of the men have taken to their new task of repopulating the country with more violent enthusiasm than others".

Sansa gaped at the bruised girl, her eyes looked resolute and puffy, she had sat down now and was pushing her cereal around in the bowl with her spoon, not once putting it to her mouth.

_Oh shit._

"Jon's not like that. He wouldn't do that" she said, still watching the poor girl.

"How do you know...you've only met him once - for what? An hour and a half?... besides..." Margaery glanced around before continuing "you don't know what incentives or threats to comply their giving them....plus Robb thinks their injecting the men with some sort of viagra or something before sending them over here".

Sansa's eyes went wide before regaining composure "I don't know...I just don't think Jon would do that...he was adamant that he wouldn't touch me".

They both reached for a tray as they came to the stack "well you're luckier than her at least" Marg motioned with her head towards the bruised girl once more and Sansa couldn't help but gulp as she stared.

***********

Sansa wasn't sure how long she'd been in her cell after dinner, thumbing through an old, well worn copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover that she'd borrowed from The Facility's 'library' - 'library' was a loose term for what it actually was - a stationary cupboard filled with erotic novels or information on conceiving and pregnancy.

 _Hmmm...well I wonder what agenda this library curator had_? Sansa had thought sarcastically as her fingers brushed past 'The Story of O' and 'Fanny Hill'. She found herself unable to resist taking something from the pathetic library though, anything to distract her from the lonely boredom of her cell.

Sansa longed to paint or draw again. She had wanted to go on to study Art at University, but she couldn't see that happening now.

Her cell door suddenly unbolted, causing Sansa to startle and jump up from where she had been sitting on the bed. Her book fell with a slap to the concrete floor.

In sauntered a guard followed by another who was pushing Jon forward. Jon seemed to be cuffed behind his back and struggled against the man gripping his arm. Sansa met Jon's eyes and his previously stony look softened a little - the guard manhandling him caught the slight interaction and sniggered, Jon shot him a loaded glare.

"Well well well" purred the guard who had entered the cell first. He came to stand a little too close to Sansa and started looking her up and down, leaning the top half of his body away, making a show of appraising her figure.

"I must say I can't see why you've been so....'hesitant' to engage with the programme Snow...you've been given a fine filly here". He continued, licking his lips before he raked his eyes up Sansa's form again "yes...very fine indeed" he said in a low voice, his ice blue eyes looked dangerously filled with something that Sansa knew she should fear. Jon's mouth formed a thin grim line as he grunted and shrugged out of the hold the other guard had on him.

"Why, if I were one of you 'breeders' I wouldn't waste my time spewing my angry words at a camera" the guard lifted the end of a tendril of Sansa's hair and twirled it around his bony finger. Sansa stiffened. He gave a little tug that made her head move.

"But you aren't" Jon said quickly. Sansa watched as the guard clenched his jaw at Jon's words. "You aren't a breeder Ramsey, so your 'services' aren't required here" Jon goaded.

'Ramsey' closed his eyes in annoyance momentarily before opening them and continuing to bore heat into Sansa's skin. He dropped her hair with a smirk and brought his fingers to run along her lips. Sansa froze.

"Get your fucking hands off of her -oofff" Jon yelled before the other guard had kicked him to his knees. Sansa gasped.

"Sshhh...don't worry about him" Ramsey hissed quietly - dangerously. "Perhaps you'd like a visit from someone not afraid to touch you"?

Sansa sucked in a breath when Ramsey's hand slid down her neck leaving prickles on her now clammy skin. He then flattened his palm on her chest, splaying his fingers out before gliding it below her breast where he curled it around her ribs and swiped his thumb up and over the swell of her flesh to her nipple.

"Mmmm" he seemed to growl, snapping Sansa out of her petrified trance long enough to scramble backwards onto her bed and seat herself defensively against the wall, holding her long legs tightly as if trying to make herself as small a target as possible - hoping to be left alone, ignored.

Ramsey chuckled at her efforts "your girl appears to be a little shy Snow.... perhaps I should warm her up for you" he threatened as he sunk one knee into Sansa's mattress, making a move to crawl over to her.

"Don't you fucking dare Ramsey"! Jon roared, trying to rise to his feet and lunge forward. The other guard was quicker though and had brought out some black instrument that Sansa didn't recognise. He touched the instrument to Jon's shoulder making him jerk and writhe in pain. The instrument made the rapid clapping noise of electricity until it was removed from Jon and he collapsed upon the floor panting and coughing.

"Good work Greyjoy" Ramsey smiled as he rose from the bed to stand over Jon, seemingly forgetting about Sansa. He crouched down on his haunches. "Tut tut tut Snow, no good getting all possessive over her now, she belongs to you for an hour a day.... that's it.... and for the rest of the time...who knows what might happen"? He emphasised his last words by shrugging and holding his palms out to the side.

'Greyjoy' cleared his throat nervously causing Ramsey to snap at him.

"What"?!

"It's...err..." he stumbled.

"Spit it out Greyjoy for fuck sake" Ramsey bit.

"It's your father sir... he wanted to see you directly after escort duty sir... I fear we don't have time for this sir" Greyjoy stammered nervously, his eyes flitting between all people present on Sansa's small cell.

Ramsey rolled his neck, Sansa heard it crack, she winced at the sound. "Very well" he said quickly as he rose to his feet. "She's yours for now Snow" he called before sauntering back out of cell, Greyjoy quickly uncuffing Jon before hurrying out after him and locking the door.


	17. The Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU 
> 
> Jon and Sansa both attend the same Uni and are best friends. Jon has been secretly pining away for her but never made a move, not believing her to be interested....
> 
> This ficlet is probably more influenced by one of my favourite fics than I'd like to admit - Two Fool Things by Janina.... seriously, if you've not read it - go do that now - I LOVE it!!

"He's only fucking gone and done it again! AGAIN"! Sansa shrieked as she burst into Jon's dorm room unannounced like an angry red-headed banshee.

"Well hello Jon, long time no see, how are you"? Jon quipped sarcastically as he got up off of his bed to close the door where she'd left it wide open.

Sansa crossed her arms and rolled her eyes "I saw you three days ago Jon" she snapped, a bit annoyed that he wasn't instantly sympathetic to her plight of despair.

"Well we used to see each other every day so it's all relative" he shrugged, shoving his hands in his jean pockets and rocked forward on the balls of his feet. "Besides...you really shouldn't burst into a man's room without so much as knocking Sansa... I could have a girl in here".

Sansa scoffed "Jon...." she gave him that playful glare that she does when he's said something stupid "you've said you're not looking to date...for the past year and a half that we've been at Uni together I've not known you to even hook up with anyone".

_And I why is that?_ Jon thought.

"Ok, so I've been a little off of my game lately... but still....if I wasn't with someone I could still be indecently disposed with myself" he teased cheekily.

"Jon! Gross"! Sansa squealed before grabbing his pillow and chucking it at his head. He caught it and began laughing, Sansa couldn't help but join in.

"I'll knock next time... wouldn't want to intrude on your 'Jon time'" she chuckled.

"That's all I'm asking" Jon smiled. "So....what's up"?

Sansa exaggerated a loud groan and fell backwards dramatically into Jon's bed.

"Harry" was all she said with a huff.

"Ah.....what's he done"? Jon asked, making his way back to the bed to sit next to her.

"I saw him... I actually saw him this time"! Sansa flung her hands up to cover her face as she made another loud noice of frustration. "He had his tongue shoved so far down her throat I'm sure he could taste the Mc-fucking-chicken sandwich he no doubt spared no expense in treating her to".

Jon could tell by the slight wobble in her voice on her last few words that she was close to tears. He leant over Sansa and pried her hands away from her face by her wrists.

"Hey" he said softly "Harry is a thin dicked cockwomble" Sansa gave him a watery smile in response.

"I told you that in confidence Jon" she half-heartedly chided him, only just managing to keep the tears at bay.

"And I never told anyone.....but in light of recent events perhaps I should let it slip to a few people"?

"People?....you don't know people" Sansa teased as she moved to sit up next to Jon, sniffing loudly.

"No, you're right...I don't like people, people are the worst" Jon said before making a mock disgusted noise whilst shuddering his shoulders. Sansa laughed at his display.

"I'm the exception though, right Snow"? Sansa asked with a smile.

"Yes Stark, you're the exception" Jon beamed warmly back at her as he took her hand in his. Sansa seemed comforted and leant her head on Jon's shoulder and let out a long shaky breath.

"Why am I never enough"? She said with a small voice.

"You are!... you are more than enough Sansa"! He squeezed her hand.

She shook her head where it rested on his shoulder "not for Harry I'm not.....or Loras" she countered.

"Well I think we can discount Loras for a start... considering your distinct lack of the 'equipment' he was looking for" Jon argued "unless.... there's something you're not telling me"?

Sansa playfully slapped his chest and chuckled "no...all woman I'm afraid".

"Ah, that's a shame, I was looking for a new wingman to help me get back in the game" Jon joked as he noticed that Sansa had brought her other hand to their joined ones, encasing his within hers.

After a short while of silence, Jon decided to get back to the subject. "Harry's an idiot who obviously doesn't know how lucky he is to have you Sansa, if you were mine I'd-" he trailed off. Sansa lifted her head.

"If I was yours what"? She asked, her eyes still sparkling from unshed tears. He couldn't look at them so his gaze shifted to her mouth but that was no good either he concluded as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"If......if you were mine.....you'd be in no doubt how I felt, there'd be no one else in my heart but you, I'd treat you how you deserved to be treated Sansa, you'd feel.....you'd feel.....loved".

_They're out. The words are out there now_ , Jon thought, his pulse quickening as he waited for her response. Sansa sucked in a breath as she stared at Jon.

Jon noticed her inch closer, lean towards him, he felt her hands tremble a little where they still incased his. She licked her lips while she stared at his, leaning in closer still. Jon decided to mimick her and moved closer to meet her lips halfway, his heartbeat picked up, his breathing quickened.

_Finally_. He thought. _Finally she sees me_.

Their mouths were barely a few inches away from each other, he could feel her breath on him when she gasped and pulled away. His heart plummeted.

"I thought you weren't looking to date anyone"? She whispered.

"I'm not" Jon replied, feeling his self preservation defences begin to rise. Sansa's face fell ever so slightly as she worried her lip. She looked away momentarily to gather some courage. Sansa took a deep breath.

"I'm the exception though, right Snow"? She asked with a tentative voice and hopeful eyes. Jon couldn't help the huge grin that crept upon his face.

"Yes Stark, you're the exception" Jon said before claiming Sansa's lips and showing her what it was to be his.

 

 


	18. Mother's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen in the North is an icy, cold, indifferent woman - The King would be in need of another to warm his bed surely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edith Collwood (original character) has been wrangled into her ambitious Mother's plan to make her daughter the King's mistress.
> 
> (Collwood is a small, new House seated in the southern regions of the North).

"You can at least try child!.. for your family! For House Collwood"! Edith's mother said proudly as she brushed out her daughter's long blond hair. Edith rolled her eyes.

"Mother...the King is married....asking me to do this....what good can come of it"? She retorted as she nervously worried her lip and fiddled with some hair ribbons.

"Our House is small but growing Edith, it wouldn't hurt to curry a little favour with King Jon-"

"But like this? Mother...is it wise?...Should the Queen find out -" Edith argued.

"Oh hush! That woman is as cold as The Wall, I'm sure she's aware that her husband would seek some warmth in his bed....they were once siblings you know - nothing like kinship to put out the flames of romance....rumour has it he's already felt the heat from a certain Southern Dragon Queen".

Edith huffed. She'd end up going along with her Mother's ridiculous plan, she knew she would. They were visiting Winterfell in two days time and her Mother had spent three moons preening and pressing her, whispering words of encouragement behind her Father's back (for he would surely despise her harebrained scheme).

Apparently she was to seduce King Jon. Or so her Mother said.

She supposed it wouldn't be so bad, the King is rumoured to be very handsome, brooding, but handsome.

It wasn't as if Edith was a maid either - her husband had been charming, too charming it seemed when he was killed only five moons after their nuptials when he was caught in bed with the Stable Master's wife. The fool.

"There" her Mother said to herself as she finished her hair fussing and stepped back to appraise her efforts "if we present you to the King thus then he'll be blinded by your beauty - I'm sure of it"! She clasped her hands together in glee.

Edith surveyed herself in the mirror. Her mother had commissioned a few new dresses and this one dipped almost indecently low about the neck. Edith watched the flush on her chest at the sight of herself. Her natural blush was hidden behind rouge and her lips sported some beeswax to make them look plump and soft. Edith thought it all a bit much. She liked her hair though.

***********

Winterfell was so much larger and grander than she thought it to be - what exactly it was she expected she could not say, it was the seat of the King and Queen after all.

Like the weather, the people of Winterfell seemed frosty too. Edith was used to the warmth and familiarity of a smaller household and found the contrast curious as she smiled widely at the castle's other visitors and staff only to be treated to curt nods and indifference in turn. The only exception was a rather attractive yet shy stable hand, who had actually returned her smile in an adorably nervous manner. _Mother would not like it should I make a friend of him,_ Edith smirked to herself.

If she thought the people to be cold and closed then that was nothing compared to Queen Sansa herself. Edith watched her in awe up on her weirwood throne that perfectly matched her husband's. The rumours of her beauty were sorely inadequate - she was so, so much more than what they had proclaimed - more beautiful, more fierce, more intimidating, more regal, more graceful....just _MORE_. Edith hardly noticed the dark handsome man sat on the throne next to her - a man with eyes that scanned the room while his jaw clenched to indicate his discomfort at the number of people in the hall.

His gaze paused when he saw her, eyes skimming the ridiculous dress Mother made her wear and then back to her face, he shifted in his chair and glanced at his icy wife. She'd caught the exchange of course, the Queen seemed shrewd and all too aware with her glacier blue eyes. Eyes that met Edith's a few too many times, forcing her to inspect the flagstone floor instead.

*************

"You must go to his chambers before the feast ends tonight" her mother whispered in her ear on their sixth night at the great castle.

"What"?!

"It's been days now Edith and we've made no inroads whatsoever.... now's not the time to be coy...he won't be able to resist...come, let's go to his rooms and you can wait for him there...say that you were lost should he really not show any interest but I'm sure that won't be the case" her Mother ushered in whispers as she nudged Edith to a standing position from her seat. She grabbed her hand and began practically dragging her out of the hall.

Whilst they wandered the hallways, looking for the Lord's Chambers Edith contemplated her next moves.

She could simply slip from his room before he returns and claim to Mother he'd refused her, or....perhaps she could offer herself to him? It had been almost a year since her foolish husband's death and for all of his faults, his prowess in the bedchamber was not one of them. Edith missed that.

"Now, this must be it" Mother said as they stopped outside a room with a large oak double door which was intricately carved with depictions of weirwood trees and wolves.

"Be clear with your intensions girl... and all will be well" Mother says as she fusses with her daughter's blond locks. Edith frowns when she starts to loosen the laces at the front of her dress, showing even more of her flesh.

"I'll be waiting for him in his rooms Mother, how much clearer could my intentions be"? She responded a little angrily. Her mother ignored her tone and pushes her into the chambers, shutting the great door behind her with an ominous thud.

The room was uncommonly warm for how large it was and Edith noted that a fire had already been lit in the hearth. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to The Old Gods that she had not intruded on the servants - she's not sure she could have outlived her embarrassment.

Edith began walking around the room, trying to decide what she would do whilst taking in the grandeur and opulence of the place. It had nothing compared to some of the southern decors she was sure, but her King was the King of Winter and the North held no place for ostentatious frivolities. Edith felt oddly proud of that before she remembered her own ridiculous appearance this night.

She hastily re-tied her laces before trying to tug her dress a fraction higher. Noticing a dressing table, she starts to rush over to it, intending to rub the silly rouge from her face. She stops half way. _A dressing table? Why should a King-?_

Edith looks more closely at the items in the room - brushes, combs and pots of lotion on the dressing table, a piece of unfinished needlework on an embroidery hoop on the table by the hearth, a pale blue robe draped across the back of the chair.

She closes the gap to the dressing table and lifts a single long copper red strand of hair from the ivory comb.

_Oh Gods! This isn't The King's Chamber's, this is-_

Edith's thoughts die as soon as she hears someone approach. She looks around, frantically searching for a solution. She considers her Mother's ridiculously thinly veiled excuse from before but thinks better of it when she notices the door to an antechamber.

Edith had only enough time to pull the door to before not one, but two people entered the room.

"You shouldn't have said that to Lord Gaurdtree tonight your Grace" a woman's voice drifts through the open crack of the antechamber door. The comment was met with a very Northern sounding grunt.

"Any man who so brazenly stares at my wife deserves to be made a fool of" a man answered. Edith peeked through the opening, her eyes confirming what she already suspected - King Jon and Queen Sansa.

The redhead chuckles "I am their Queen Jon, people will look at me".

"Aye, but his glare was different, I didn't like it" the King answered as Edith saw him come up behind the Queen and place his hands on her hips.

"Jealous my King"? She turns her head to him.

"Very" he says as he bends to nibble at her neck.

 _Mother was wrong,_ Edith thought as she watched the couple.

"If anyone should be jealous, it's me your Grace" the Queen hums as the King continues his attentions on her opalescent skin.

"And why's that my Queen"? He asks her earlobe.

"More and more Lords seem to be bringing their daughters to court... I dare say over half of them have ambitions of becoming your mistress".

King Jon groans in response "I know....did you see the Collwood girl? Trussed up like a dessert she was" he shook his head.

Edith's cheeks flamed - she was sure the rouge would not be able to hide this level of embarrassment. She silently cursed her Mother and vowed to never again listen to one of her plans.

"Don't be so harsh on the girl" the Queen says, catching both her husband and Edith by surprise.

"Why ever not" the King scoffs. Edith notices one of his hands has roamed up his wife's bodice and is now cupping her breast over her dress.

"Because, after speaking with the Mother, I have a sneaking suspicion it is all the parent's doing...and besides, the girl looks to me more than she does you"

King Jon chuckles at that. "Aye, I'm a poor substitute for your beauty... perhaps she intends to become your mistress"?

The Queen laughs out a musical sound before turning in her husband's arms and becoming somber. "Littlefinger cornered me again today" she said so softly Edith barely heard her. She saw the King's jaw clench.

"He tried to kiss me this time" she whispered.

"He what"?! The king roared, making Edith jump in her hiding place. "I'll kill him"! He growled "We must have made enough progress with Lords of the Vale by now Sansa, let me kill him"!

"Hush my love" the Queen silenced him with a finger to his lips. "Soon Jon, soon. Just a few more Lords to bring into the fold...and then you can have him" she pauses to place a tender kiss on her husband's lips. "But for now my King I should like for you to use your energy elsewhere" she says suggestively. Edith swears she witnessed the Queen's hand pass over the Kings breeches.

"As my Queen commands" King Jon hums in response.

_Mother was VERY wrong!_

 

******

Edith remembers wondering exactly what the King was doing when he knelt down and disappeared beneath his wife's skirts - the Queen seemed to like it very much, whatever it was. Edith thought perhaps this is something they only do this far north.

She also remembers, with shame, the feeling that she should look away when he bent her over and took her roughly from behind. Edith herself began to pant along with the royal couple as their flesh slapped and their cries intermingled.

Luckily, they'd decided to move out of sight to the enormous bed after that and, after some more writhing, moaning and declarations of love and dedication, Edith had deduced it was her chance for escape, the King and Queen having fallen asleep in each others arms.

 _Good for them_ , she thought with a grin as she made her way back to her Mother's guest chambers, ready to tell her all.

However, she stopped in her tracks once she was almost there and decided to turn on her heel to go and find that handsome Stable Hand instead. Perhaps she would even find out what the King had done underneath the Queens skirts.

 

 

 


	19. Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this little thing came bouncing into my brain and wouldn't leave me be to finish my other chapters until I'd written it down!... just a short bit of silliness!...

Jon couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, he narrowed his eyes and asked his question again, just to be sure.

"You definitely don't want to take a little time to....ah....adjust your appearance first"?

Sansa huffed and crossed her arms over her chest "No Jon, I do not".

He surveyed her appearance once again with a cocked brow. Her braid was coming loose, tendrils of fire licking about her face and neck where the wind blew life into it. There was a smear of mud across her nose and cheek as well as a healthy splattering of the stuff on her neck, chest and cleavage (that Jon tried and failed not to look at for too long).

Her dress was absolutely ruined, dirt and muck decorated the fabric of her skirts from hem to knee. There were a few pieces of evidence to the main culprit to the blame of her appearance in the form of a scraping of muddy direwolf prints.

Jon looked to his side at his lupine friend, now more various tones of earth brown than his normal white. Ghost sat happily thumping his tail on the rug, ignoring the fact that he was the route cause to the Lady of Winterfell now looking part wild.

Jon gaped back at Sansa. He'd never seen her look so undone, so disheveled, so......

"Ghost was a little enthusiastic in his playing today but honestly Jon, I don't see the issue, I can still attend the meeting with Lord Cerwyn with you" she said a little irritably.

"Of course but.....you've never....you always" Jon stumbled. Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Yes Jon. I'm always so neat and 'put together', I've never so much as had a strand of hair out of place - and it's terribly tiring!....and unfair"! Her voice grows in heat and her eyes sparkle a little. "You've attended council meetings directly from training before with sweat and dirt about your face, nobody bats an eyelid when Arya helps at petitions in torn clothes, caked in dust from the courtyard! And Rickon - well, I'm not entirely sure what his natural complexion actually is - he's so permanently covered in some form of grime"! Sansa pauses for breath. "Whereas I always have to be kept proper and pretty... well my appearance has nothing to do with my ideas and observations for this meeting Jon, so no, I won't be taking some time to go and make myself pretty for you Your Grace"!

Jon is struck dumb by her rant - that and the now arresting sight of his cousin behaving as fiery as her hair, her chest heaving the speckles of mud up and down with her breaths. He licked his lips and drags his gaze away from the sight - up to her shining blue eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak but Sansa had already turned on her heel. "I'm tired of being pretty Jon"! She called back at him.

 _You could never not be pretty, even if you tried sweet girl,_ he thought as he watched the sashay in her hips and noticed the twigs in her hair.


	20. A Little Ditty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy do I need to stop doing these one shots and start actually finishing my WIPS!!! Gaaah I'm so sorry! To say I'm easily distracted is a sore understatement!
> 
> Anyway - I SHALL be concentrating on FINISHING Increasing the Possibility and also continuing The Facility...after that...ummmm...oh god I've so many to finish! What have I done?!? *pulls hair*

Badrick was and always had been a gifted singer, he wasn't too bad on the fiddle either. But more than that, he loved to entertain. He was never happiest than when he could pull smiles, laughter, cheers and applause from whatever audience he could gather.

And so it came to no surprise to his friends and family that he had chosen the life of a theatrical. He hoped to join a travelling company of mummers but his tiny village brought no such spectacle.

So Badrick travelled alone, gathering coin and lodgings in turn for his performances in many an inn, tavern and even the odd brothel.

The long lonely hours upon a horse between town and village gave him pause to start turning his mind. He'd sung the same old ditties and ballads for weeks now - perhaps he could compose his own?

His personally penned songs went down well with the crowds - he even had drunkards pathetically sing his own lyrics back at him while they swayed on their feet.

The most popular tunes seemed to be those with humorous and saucy lyrics and so he concentrated on those - it was amazing how many words he could make rhyme with 'cock' and 'tits'.

As he carried on his journey further north, he realised his next destination to be Wintertown, the closest town to the seat of The King. Badrick had heard the rumours - it was hard to avoid them considering the establishments he frequented. And so he fancied himself in need of a new ditty.

He composed lyric and tune upon his horse. He practised till he knew the song inside and out and now - as he approached the first tavern on the outskirts of town - he felt ready to perform his new masterpiece.

Glancing around the establishment, Badrick noticed many a man already deep in his cups and tavern wenches sitting atop the laps of patrons - yes, these people would appreciate his new saucy song, he was sure. He spoke with the barkeep and negotiated board and lodgings in return for his entertaining the man's customers.

A table was cleared and Badrick climbed on top, clearing his throat to gain attention before he started his new song.....

 _Come gather ye here, I'll tell ye a tale of The White Wolf King and his Sister,_  
_He fiercely fought flayed man and all because his fists had kissed her,_  
_His rage burns hot and fire red_  
 _like the hair of his sister's cunt,  
And he finds that it's her little peach that fills his cock with want_!

 _Oh did you ever hear such a sound_  
as two wolves howlin'?  
_He'll bend her over and fill her up  
'till her cunny has him growilin_ '

 _Now King he is but the Sister rules_  
_And rules with a saucy whip,_  
_He finds no fault at that merry thought,  
as at her cunt he doth worship_!

 _Oh did you ever hear such a sound_  
_as two wolves howlin'?_  
_She'll ride his cock back and forth  
'till her cunny has him growlin_ '

 _She'll wed no other, he's seen to that,_  
_He's run through many a suitor,  
She's bewitched him with her warm wet cunt_  
_And he's the only cock who'll breach her!_

 _Oh did you ever hear such a sound_  
_as two wolves howlin'?_  
_She'll spread her legs and let him in  
'till her cunny has him growlin_ '

 _She screams his name throughout the night_  
_It's really quite the din,_  
_And the people they turn their blind eye,  
At the royal siblings carnal sin_!

To say that Badrick was surprised at the silence that followed was an understatement. He'd judged the subject matter badly, he realised as the barkeep grabbed him from atop the table and shoved him to a seat.

"Eat" he commanded as he slid a small bowl of stew under Badrick's nose "and think hard upon the next ditties you recount son - you'll find nought but love here for the King and Lady, despite the rumours....and I'll thank you to remember it" he said, slamming a mug of ale in front of him before he returned to behind the bar.

Badrick hardly noticed the young couple who came to sit next to him as he chewed on the tough meat in his stew and contemplated what songs to sing next. His eyes suddenly caught on some flesh being exposed at the corner of his eye.

He turned his head, not bothering to hide his curiosity as he openly gawked at the woman sat on the lap of her male partner. He had pushed his hand up her skirt, running it over her thigh, causing her skirts to ride up, exposing her slender milk white calf right up to her knee. She wore a hood covering her hair and the majority of her face, Badrick fancied she was quite beautiful under it though.

The couple were deep into each others mouths, seemingly trying to taste the others tonsils. Badrick felt safe enough to look his fill at the young girl as she wiggled in her dark haired partners lap.

As quick as a flash, there appeared the blade of a dagger at his neck. Badrick's hand was paused in mid air, clutching his ale as it had made it halfway to his mouth.

"You are not permitted to gawk so openly at my Lady sir, I suggest you avert your eyes respectfully" the dagger owner growled. Badrick noticed his lips were red and swollen from his previous fervent activity. The girl giggled, her arms still hung about her partners neck.

"I...I...apologise sir...I meant no harm" Badrick stuttered as he tried to turn from the couple. The blade was pressed more firmly to his throat.

"You wrote that song you performed"? The dark haired man asked with quiet threat in his voice.

"I...I did" Badrick gulped in response.

"You will NOT perform it again" the man growled. The girl began kissing and licking the dark haired man's neck.

"....I won't..I swear it.."

"Come come now" the woman said in her musical voice "I quite enjoyed the piece".

The dark haired man turned to raise a questioning brow at the girl in his lap, his hand held the dagger steady at Badrick's neck.

The girl giggled "you know how I love colourful language J-... husband" she stifled yet another laugh "besides" she continued whilst dragging a seductive finger down his neck and chest "I've heard that the King does 'bend her over and fill her up'...quite frequently" she purred. The couple began tasting each other's lips again as they groaned against one another. Badrick tried to move away from them but the dagger was pressed tighter to him when he did.

The man's free hand slapped the woman's behind causing her to break their kiss with a squeal. "In fact" she licked her lips "rumour has it he's had her scream all about that castle".

The dark haired man gave his 'wife' a sly grin "now I'm not one to listen to rumours and the like...but I've seen the Lady of Winterfell with my own two eyes..."

"Oh yes"? The girl licked a long stripe up his neck. The man groaned.

"Yes....and I say any man who shuns the opportunity to worship at her cunt would be a fool indeed" he rasped as he claimed her lips again.

They were interrupted by a serving girl clearing her throat. The couple broke their lips apart but stayed entangled. The dagger had not moved from Badrick's neck. The serving girl eyed the weapon. Badrick silently pleaded with the girl for some help. She seemed indifferent to the threat he was facing and the dark haired man was unashamed at his behaviour.

"Your usual room is ready your Gr- sir" she bobbed her head at the man. He slapped his girl's arse again as she rose from his lap, a striking copper red tendril came loose from her hooded head as she threw her neck back in her laughter.

The man grinned up at the woman and leaned into Badrick. Without taking his eyes off of his 'wife' he hissed his final threat "If I hear that song again, I shall personally remove your tongue and balls - do you hear me boy"? Badrick nodded animatedly.

"Good" the dark haired man barked out in his gruff voice. He flipped the dagger in his hand so that he grasped the blade end now, Badrick thought he saw a large wolf carved into the white ivory of the handle.

The man's woman stood with a wicked grin and an outstretched arm to her 'husband' "come" she commands before finishing her words with a whisper "let us see if my cunny gets you growlin' my love".

Badrick never did sing that song again.

 

 


	21. Text Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've already broken my promise to not do another ficlet until I've finished 'Increasing the Possibility' - I'm sorrrry!!!!!

**JON (text messages)**

Jon: I'm fucked

Theon: I agree - but remind me again why?

Jon: She's here again, that girl I was telling you all about

Theon: The redhead? Where are you?

Jon: Yes - the redhead and I'm in that coffee shop down the road from the station...But that's not all....she's wearing glasses and red lipstick this time... she's so fucking hot

Theon: Send me a photo

_(Covert photo taking ensues)_

_Photo message sent._

Theon: Lol - you are indeed royally fucked my friend. She's hotter than hot - totally out of your league mate

Jon: Thanks for the sympathy

Theon: Hey if you wanted sympathy then you should have texted Sam or Grenn

Jon: They're both at work. Ass

Theon: I'm hurt man

Jon: Whatever T - what should I do? She's got her laptop with her so maybe she doesn't want to be disturbed but what if I don't see her again?

Jon: T?

Theon: Sorry - I've just realised something

Jon: What?

Theon: Which is it? Teacher or Secretary?

Theon: Snow?

Jon: What do you mean?

Theon: Your thing? What floats your boat? Tickles your fancy? Gets you going? Your kink? Your fantasy? Teacher or Secretay?

Theon: I know it's one of them - you practically jizzed your pants when you saw Jeyne and she was all dressed up for work and THIS girl is a million times hotter than Jeyne and looks like a Teacher/Secretary - so which is it Snow?

**SANSA (Facebook Messenger -laptop)**

Sansa: He's here again!!!!

Marg: Ooooh - that hunk we saw last time at the coffee shop?

Sansa: Yes!! Hunk? I hate that word

Marg: What would you prefer? Beefcake? Delicious piece of man-meat? Lol!!

Sansa: He does look delicious

Marg: There's my girl!!! Go talk to him!

Marg: San?

Sansa: I don't know...what should I say?

Marg: Hi my name's Sansa, may I ride your cock whilst tugging on that lovely hair of yours and sucking your face?

Sansa: Not helping Marg!!

**JON**

Jon: Teacher

Theon: I fucking knew it!

Theon: What is it then? Want her to cane you for misbehaving? Lol

Jon: Don't... if I end up approaching her with that mental image then I'll make a total ass of myself.

Theon: Like you won't already! Honestly Snow she's hotter than all your past girlfriends combined!

Jon: Don't you think I already know this? Hence the need for moral support here T!

Theon: Then why the fuck did you text ME?

Jon: I'm starting to wonder

Theon: Alright, alright! Are you wearing your uniform?

Jon: No, shift has ended - why?

Theon: God you are dense sometimes

Jon: ?

Theon: Chicks fucking love your uniform!! You can practically hear their panties drop when you walk in the door wearing that thing! It almost makes me want to sign up myself!

Jon: I don't know man

Jon: Really?

Theon: Yes. The uniform works - it's like some sort of magical pussy magnet

Jon: You're vile, do you know that?

Theon: lol I'm only trying to help!

Jon: Well I'm not wearing it, so what do suggest I do?

Theon: Go change?

**SANSA**

Marg: So what you gonna do?

Sansa: I should talk to him shouldn't I? I mean - it's been almost 8 months since Joff

Marg: He who shall not be named

Marg: And yea! You should definitely talk to him! You deserve some fun San and can you imagine all the fun you could have with him?! I know I can!!

Sansa: MARG!! I'll remind you that you're engaged to my brother!

Marg: A girl can look ;-)

Sansa: Well avert your eyes because this one's mine!!

Marg: Yes! Go on San! Go get him you little minx you!!

Marg: Did you talk to him?

Sansa: No, not yet, I'm working up to it

Marg: SANSA MINISA STARK! YOU ARE A GODAMN SEX GODDESS AND ANY MAN WHO YOU DEEM WORTHY TO KISS YOUR FEET (or any other areas) IS ONE LUCKY BASTARD!!!!

Sansa: Haha! Ok ok. Thanks Marg

Marg: No problem - there is one condition for the continuation of my unwavering support...

Sansa: What's that then?

Marg: Details. I want aaaallllll the dirty details of the wild sex you're definitely going to have with that HUNK ;-)

Sansa: Oh no!!!!

Marg: ?

Sansa: He's leaving!!!

Marg: Go catch him!

Sansa: No, he's gone :-(

Sansa: It's probably for the best, I'm meant to be writing my pupil's reports not oogling some guy. Hope I see him again :-(

**JON**

Jon: You'd better be right Greyjoy - I'm going back to the station to change

Theon: Haha! I love it! Really want to impress this one then Snow?

Jon: Yea - I mean - you saw the photo? She's way out of my league but I've got to try right?

**SANSA**

Sansa: OH SWEET BABY JESUS!!!!!!!

Marg: What? What's happened?

Sansa: He's back

Sansa: AND HE'S A FUCKING FIREFIGHTER!!!!! HE'S WEARING THE UNIFORM!!! THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL!!!!

Marg: Oh my!! Can he get any better?!

Sansa: No Marg - this is not good! You know how I feel about firemen - how the hell am I going to talk to him now?!?! My panties are ruined. He's too perfect. I can't do it.

Marg: YOU WILL BLOODY DO IT OR IM MARCHING DOWN TO THAT COFFEE SHOP AND DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT YOUNG LADY!

Sansa: Marg seriously. I can't. Oh god he's so hot! I can't!

Marg: For the love of lemoncakes Sansa! You are the most beautiful, intelligent, funny and BRAVE woman this side of The Neck - you deserve this, you deserve him - for as long as you want him and for whatever you want to do with him! And let me know if you run out of ideas because I've got a few of my own ;-)

Marg: Sansa?

Sansa: Sorry - got distracted - he's sitting on the table right next to mine and he's even better looking close up! He smells divine too. A firefighter Marg! Why did he have to be a firefighter?!

Marg: Because it's destiny that you were meant to play out your fantasy of being fucked senseless by a beefy fireman - I will be sorely disappointed if you're not walking like John Wayne when I see you tomorrow lol

**JON**

Theon: Spoke to her yet knobchops?

Jon: Charming and no

Theon: What are you waiting for?!

Jon: I'm going to do it, just working myself up to it

Jon: Shit

Theon: What? Exactly how bad did you fuck this one up Snow?

Jon: No. Still not spoken to her. But some guy came up to her and fuck was she frosty with him. I don't think she wants to be disturbed.

**SANSA**

Sansa: Uuurrggghhh!!!!! Petyr was here!

Marg: Oh god! The creepy guy from your school whose been trying to get in your panties for the past year?

Sansa: The very one! Don't worry - I think he got the hint that I wasn't in the mood for his company - but now firefighter guy is gone!! :-(

Marg: Shit Sansa - I'm sure you'll see him again hunny

Sansa: He left his phone

Marg: What? In the coffee shop? Grab it!!!!

Sansa: I've got it - hopefully he'll come back for it soon!!! :-)

Sansa: It's not locked

Marg: His phone? Who doesn't lock their phone?! Have a snoop girl!!

Sansa: Isn't that some kind of grave invasion of privacy?!

Marg: Yes, yes it is but A) he should have locked his phone and B) you know you want to!!

Sansa: Aww he's got an adorable dog!! Can he be any more perfect?!

Marg: Forget about the bloody dog - does he have a girlfriend? Wife?

Sansa: I don't know but there's a photo of ME on his phone?!?!

Marg: WHAT?!

Marg: Sansa talk to me!

Sansa: Sorry - was reading his text messages - I think he likes me!!!!

Marg: Of course he does darling! But why do you think that?

Sansa: He's back! I'm going to give his phone back, wish me luck  - talk later!

**SANSA (text messages)**

Marg: So what happened?

Marg: Sansa?

Marg: Sansa it's been TWO FUCKING DAYS! You missed our girls night! There better be a good reason - a firefighter-shaped reason!!!!

Sansa: Sorry Marg! I'll make it up to you....I promised to tell you all the dirty details didn't I? But right now I need to rest - not had much sleep ;-)

 

 


	22. The Gift - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yea yea yea... I'm no good at keeping promises ok?!??
> 
> I am working on the next chapter of Just Viewing but I'm a little stuck... so here's this instead :-) .....

_You absolute coward!_ Was all Sansa could think when she glimpsed the hastily retreating blonde form of Prince Joffrey Baratheon as he fled the clearing they had been having their secret picnic in. That probably wasn't the aspect of the unfolding events that she should be focusing on right now though, considering she was facing a fire breathing dragon.

It had all been going so incredibly well. The Prince had suggested she skip her normal embroidery lesson, feigning a headache, and meet him by the stables where he had two mares saddled and ready.

They had reached the clearing by midday and he began to regale her about the splendour and curiosities of the Red Keep. Sansa was enthralled by the tales and his promises to show her all the delights of the capital as they ate strawberries and drank summer wine.

The first shadow had spooked the horses. They fled to the trees lining the clearing and quickly disappeared before Joffrey or Sansa had a chance to try to recall or chase after them, the shadow passed over them again, large, ominous and blocking out the optimism of the sun momentarily. Sansa used her hand to shade her eyes and searched the sky for the shadow-maker. That's when they heard it - a terrible shriek that pierced the skies spurring them both to get to their feet as the great scaled beast landed surprisingly gracefully before them, shaking the ground enough to make Sansa's legs feel unsteady.

_Gods! A dragon! It can't be!?_

The boy Prince yelped and held both Sansa's elbows from behind, angling her between him and the huge muddy green animal.

The dragon shot a massive glowing flame into the air causing Joffrey to turn heel and run - moving as fast as his royal feet would carry him leaving Sansa to fend for herself.

 _You had a sword!_ She thought. _You'd been telling me about it at great length just five minutes ago and there it goes still sheathed in your scabbard bouncing at your hip! You could have distracted the animal at the very least!_

All her vexation would do her no good now as she stood frozen to the spot eying the great beast as it eyed her right back. The dragon stepped forwards and sniffed the air around her. Some of her loose hair got caught in its inhale and reached upwards towards the beasts nostrils. Sansa wondered if it was judging whether or not she'd make a tasty meal. It snorted hot breath that smelt like sulphur.

Sansa knew it would do her no good to try and flee - two flaps of the beasts great wings and it would head off any of her escape routes. Nor could she fight it - what with?

Somewhere in the back of her fear addled mind she remembered enchanted tales of fair maidens taming dragons with their charms and beauty. By chances go, it was a long reach, but the only chance she had.

"Hello" she said weakly. The dragon lowered its head to her and nudged her belly with its hot snout. She tentatively moved her shaking hand to reach out and touch it's scales - they were smooth and warm. It made a happy rumbling noise from somewhere deep within its chest and nudged her belly again, this time with more force, knocking Sansa to the ground on her rear with a painful thud.

The dragon pointed its head skyward and let out another breath of flame before it lifted one of its great clawed feet and curled it surprisingly gently around Sansa's waist.

Before she knew it she was looking down at the picnic clearing from high above, the trees around it that had previously provided a shady canopy now gradually getting smaller and smaller below her as the great beast beat its huge leathery wings.

Sansa felt as though there was too much air around her and yet not enough in her lungs. She gasped and struggled as they soared higher and higher, passing Wintertown and Winterfell, the small folk looking as if they were living up to their name. Finally Sansa found her voice and let loose a scream, the dragon shrieked in return as if it thought they were singing some terrible duet.

From what Sansa could make out of the landscape and the odd keep they passed over, the dragon was taking her North, so North that they eventually soared over The Wall itself! The giant icy structure glittered in the midday sun. Sansa would have thought its beauty some kind of magic if she weren't currently in such a dire situation.

 _No one will come searching for me beyond The Wall_ , she thought.

_Perhaps it is taking me back to its lair to feed to its young?_

They rose higher and higher, the air getting thinner and thinner, Sansa soon felt ill and cotton-headed. Everything went black for a time and Sansa felt numb. That is, until her eyes began to open, tears rolling down her cheeks as the wind whipped past her face and everything came back into focus. They were descending. Fast. Spiralling and looping, her hair moving as if it was its own beast.

 _Oh Gods! Please don't throw up! Please don't throw up!_ She chanted to herself.

Once again the dragon landed with surprising grace considering its size. The ground was covered in snow this far north of The Wall, the beasts landing sending a small outwards spray of it around them.

It dropped her rather unceremoniously into the cold white powder making her gasp from the iciness - she was not dressed for anything this cold having just been in a sunny green glen just minutes ago.

Sansa stood hastily and faced the beast. They were near the edge of a forest but once again Sansa knew she would not make it to the treeline in time - especially now her skirts were soggy and laden down with snow. So she stood her ground - if she is to die today then she'll die as a Stark, staring down death and daring it to take her.

"What have you brought for me this time friend"? Came a voice through the clearing. For a crazy moment Sansa thought it had been the beast to speak but quickly whirled around to see a small hut and a man emerging from it.

 _Wildling_!

The man was dressed in all manner of furs, his head topped with a wild mop of inky black curls. He stood still in the doorway of his hut with a look of astonishment on his face - only he didn't seem to be surprised at the presence of a dragon at his home but rather that there was another person there as he stared wide eyed at Sansa. The animal shrieked excitedly into the sky behind her making her jump in her skin.

The man walked slowly out towards her like he was stalking some animal it did not want to spook. Why it occurred to Sansa that it was her he was worried about startling and not the massive fire breathing dragon she does not know.

He stopped a few footsteps away and gawked at her.

 _At me. Not at the flying fire breathing monster behind me_.

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips to begin to ask a question but his query never voiced itself as just then the dragon began nudging Sansa in the back, pushing her towards the wildling whilst grunting and rumbling.

Sansa stumbled on the dragons final push, causing her to reach out and steady herself, stop herself from falling completely. The man caught her, saving Sansa from meeting the snowy ground. They both gaped at each other as she straightened in his arms. His eyes were warm brown.

Instantly Sansa made the decision - Wildlings were dangerous, but not as dangerous as the monster that brought her here, so she moved to stand behind him, using him much like Joffrey had used her - as a human shield between her and the beast.

The man stared her up and down for a little while before turning back to the dragon. It was close now, so close that the man need not move his feet to reach out and touch it - which he did.

"What on earth have you done girl"? He asked as he gently stroked the dragons cheek. The huge animal purred under the man's attentions.

"I....I didn't do anything! We were just having a pic-" she stumbled and stuttered.

"I wasn't talking to you" the man rasped, not looking round at her. Sansa stayed silent and contemplated making a run for it.

 _If I can make it to the forest, I might be able to loose the dragon and wildling and...and...freeze to death among the trees._ She thought miserably.

Her teeth began to rattle together of their own volition.

"She normally brings me food or firewood" the man continued, still not turning to face Sansa. "Mother said I was lucky... that the dragon would always bring me things I need, things that would make me happy". He turned to look at Sansa "it's never bought me a person before".

 


	23. Satisfying - Part 1 - Girls Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU - Jon and Sansa aren't related and flat share with Robb. Robb is going out with Margaery, both Jon and Sansa are single and into each other although nothing has happened yet.
> 
> Valentine's Day, 2017

"So what you dong at the pub with this sad sack and not with Marg on Valentine's night then Stark"? Theon remarked, tipping the bottom of his beer bottle towards Robb and then Jon.

"Hey"! Jon exclaimed half-heartedly.

"Sorry sad sack" Theon grinned. Jon grunted and took a swig of his beer.

"Sansa's kicked us out of the flat for a 'girls night in'" Robb began "and apparently it's something Marg doesn't want to miss" he shrugged into his pint of lager.

"But it's Valentine's Day - isn't that like, a big deal for couples"? Theon asked. Robb pulled a non-committal face that didn't go unnoticed by Jon.

"Hang on a minute, you were laying it on incredibly thick earlier about how disappointed you were not to be spending the evening with Marg - and now you don't care"? He asked with a furrowed brow.

Robb grinned "well...the more disappointed Marg thinks I am the more effort she'll put into 'making it up to me' won't she"? Robb winked.

"That's bloody brilliant"! Theon laughed and clapped Robb on the back making him spill a splash of his pint. Jon shook his head.

"So what do you reckon this girls night entails? Naked pillow fights and experimentation"? Theon waggles his eyebrows.

"That's my sister and her friends your talking about Greyjoy"! Robb warns.

Jon tries to hide his flush. He knew Robb was protective of his sister, it was part of the reason that he'd never professed his feelings for her. It had gotten worse when she'd moved into their flat - taking Sam's old room after he'd moved in with Gilly. She was there all the fucking time - with her tight jeans, cute little tops, bright smile and hair that smelt like strawberries - damn her!

The worst part was that he had an inkling that Sansa liked him too. She was always friendly with everyone but Jon swore it wasn't his imagination telling him that she took every opportunity to touch him - his arm, his knee, even stroking his hair and joking that he should be a Vidal Sassoon model.

They'd even had a couple of 'near misses' where Jon was sure they were about to kiss but low-and-behold his best friend, Robb-Cockblocker-extraordinaire-Stark would appear out of thin air causing both of them to jump about five feet apart. Seriously, does that man have a sixth sense or something?!

So there he was, caught between his desire and his loyalty and not entirely sure what he was going to do about it.

"Probably more like painting each other's toenails while they bitch about how terrible men are and yet mope about being single - Marg excluded obviously" Robb commented, bringing Jon back from his thoughts.

"Hmmm" Theon pondered "who else is there"?

"Sansa, Marg, Randa, Mya, Jeyne, Beth and Brienne...you know - the usual lot" Robb shrugged after counting the girls names off with his fingers. He lowered his hand and caught the gleam in Greyjoy's eye. "Why"?

"Lets go to the offy, get some vodka and some of that pink fizzy shit they like and crash the girls night - Show 'em that men aren't so terrible eh"?

"And you're the perfect example to prove that theory are you Greyjoy"? Jon asks, tilting the neck of his bottle at Theon.

"Of course! Im nothing but a gentleman" Greyjoy grinned.

"Bollocks"! Robb grunted "I know what this is - you've got a thing for Jeyne, especially now she's newly single".

Both Jon and Robb looked to Theon for confirmation who just grinned knowingly in return.

********

Somehow Theon managed to persuade Robb and Jon to spend a small fortune on booze, carry said booze and not to text Sansa to let her know they were headed back to the flat.

"Where's your keys"? Theon asked Jon, the glass bottles clinking in the bags that weighed down both Jon's arms. He motioned towards his jacket pocket whilst being silenced by a family bag of Dorito's he was holding in his teeth. Theon reached round and fished them out before opening the door.

As they entered the hallway they heard laughter and a couple of the girls singing 'Hey Big Spender' at the top of their lungs. Theon headed towards the sound.

"Honey! I'm ho-" Greyjoy called out before being cut off by the sight before him, Robb and Jon struggling with the bags of alcohol and snacks behind him. All three of them stood frozen in shock as they took in the unexpected scene in the living room.

Margaery was stood in the middle of the room wearing a lace and sheer black fabric one-piece of racy lingerie. She yelped and dropped the cat-o-nine-tails she was twirling in favour of covering her breasts where her nipples had previously been visible through the fabric. Brienne was holding a red babydoll up to herself as Beth was being laced into a black and baby pink corset by Jeyne, who in turn seemed to be dressed in a very skimpy nurses outfit. Randa and Mya were sat on one sofa holding up and comparing two brightly coloured vibrators whilst Sansa was stood on top of the other sofa dressed as a naughty French maid with a glass of wine in one hand and a dildo that she was using as a microphone in the other.

"Holy fuck" Greyjoy exclaimed with wide eyes and massive grin on his face.

The bag of Doritos fell from Jon's mouth.

"What the hell Marg"? Robb pushed past Jon and Theon to ask his girlfriend what was going on. Trying not to ogle her too openly while also making some effort to shield her from his friends' field of vision.

"Oh look - some willing male models" an unknown woman Jon had not noticed before purred. To be fair, the rest of the flat could be on fire, Jon wouldn't have noticed that either as he stared at Sansa's stocking clad long legs that disappeared into the black flared skirt with a little white apron. Her gorgeous red hair was piled messily and yet artfully on top of her head where a little black and white lace maids headpiece sat.

"Good evening boys" the woman addresses them, she's holding a small bundle of what looks like catalogues and has a pen behind her ear. "My name's Ros" she sticks her hand out In greeting, Jon numbly puts the bags of booze on the floor and takes her offered hand shake in a bit of a daze.

"Ever been to an Ann Summers Party"? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure if everyone outside of the UK is aware (apologies if I'm telling you what you already know)! 
> 
> An 'offy' is an Off License (Liquor Store).
> 
> An Ann Summers Party is like a Tupperware party but for sex toys and lingerie ;-) .... filled with drinking, saucy games, being shown 'the products' and trying on the costumes etc
> 
> So this is the piece I imagine Margaery wearing - http://www.annsummers.com/lingerie/lingerie-shop-by-category/lingerie-category-bodies/talitha-body/TALITHA-BODY.html?dwvar_TALITHA-BODY_size=190&dwvar_TALITHA-BODY_color=006#start=2
> 
> And this is what Sansa's wearing - http://www.annsummers.com/fancy-dress/fancy-dress-shop-by-collection/fancy-dress-shop-by-collection-maids/maid-to-pleasure-fancy-dress-outfit/MAID-TO-PLEASURE.html?dwvar_MAID-TO-PLEASURE_size=120&dwvar_MAID-TO-PLEASURE_color=013#start=6
> 
> The second part to this ficlet will contain smut and shall be shamelessly named 'Jon Snow's Hung Like A Horse' ;-)


	24. Ghost's Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa told through Ghost's eyes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this is utter crap - it's the middle of the night and I'm horribly tired but this idea wouldn't leave me alone until I'd commit it to words...

Master likes the female who had been Lady-sister's human, he seems content in her company and isn't constantly on high alert when it's just the two of them - and me of course.

She smells different now we are back in the old place - the walled den where they brought us as pups and we grew. She smells like frustration.

The walls of the old den are slowly beginning to loose their scent of dog and rotting flesh to smell like home again. It should comfort Master but he paces at night time and hardly sleeps.

She behaves differently to the other female, the smaller one. The one who was Nymeria-sister's human. Master likes the smaller female, but in a different way - she's a good hunter and almost constantly carries the scent of a kill. Master worries about her.

No, the taller female is different, Master is more careful with her, more gentle. She treats me to strokes and pets me often, she treats Master to them too. He smells of what I originally thought was desire when he's with her - but I must be mistaken as he hasn't claimed her as his own at all - human scents can be so confusing!

It was the day the other humans came to the den that I confirmed my suspicions about what it was Master really wanted from her. The other human pack didn't smell of the den, or the surrounding hunting grounds - they must be from afar.

One of the males from the other pack seemed to be displaying some dominance towards our taller female - I think he was trying to persuade her to leave our pack for theirs. Master did not like that - not one bit. His hackles must have been raised under all that cloth because all I could sense from him when he looked at the male was _kill, kill, kill_.... all I could sense when he looked at our female was _mine, mine, mine._ I bared my teeth to the other male, making sure he didn't touch our female. She petted me again.

As the three of us sat by the fire that night, I watched our female, she was correctly showing her submissive behaviour to Master - he is quite clearly the alpha of our pack after all - but this was more, she was acting like she was in heat and in need of a mate. Why isn't Master taking her? I think he wants to. Humans are strange!

It was perhaps two nights later that things started to change. We (the three of us) were all sat around the fire again of an evening - and once more our female was being submissive towards Master, only this time I sensed a change in him, I sensed excitement and an overwhelming feeling of dominance, I felt sure he would claim her but instead they seemed to play.

They spent a long time nuzzling and making little noises as their paws seemed to stroke each other. To play properly, they moved to be in the best place - the patch of floor directly in front of the fire. They were tearing the strange cloth that all humans seem to carry on their bodies as they took turns in dominance - one pinning the other to the floor before swapping over. It looked like a great game.

Master let the female dominate in the end - he could have easily won their play but I could tell he let her have the victory. They were yipping and panting and howling at their game - it must have been particularly fun. It wasn't until Master started growling that I recognised their game for what it was - he was finally claiming her!

All I could think in the following weeks was that they must really want some pups because the sleeping chamber of the den reeked of mating!

It didn't take long, I could smell it on her - she constantly smelt strongly of Master and the pup that grew inside her.

It's a shame that humans tend to carry one pup at a time instead of a good healthy litter - this seemed to frustrate Master and his female too because no sooner had the pup left its mother did the sleeping chambers reek of mating constantly again.

The pups were pleasing in their own way - even if my fur got tugged at more and more ferociously as Master's litter increased in size year after year. They made Master and his female happy though, and that's all that matters.

Master and his female no longer smell of frustration, they smell of happiness, contentment, family, pack.


	25. The Gift -part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting this second chapter here but I have separated this fic to a stand alone post so this will be the last chapter of this story to appear in this collection....

Sansa paused before following the wildling back into his hut as he had offered. She looked back over her shoulder at the great scaled dragon that was now curled around itself in steady slumber like a cat in front of a fireplace, the snow had melted around the beast for a good three feet.

Tentatively making her way to the man's threshold she peered in. It was very primitive, as she had expected - the walls were made of wattle and daub, the roof some kind of thatch. The hut only had one room, in the middle there was a pit of fire, over in one corner was a large pile of furs and pelts, in another there was a tethered goat.

"She bought me that about half a moon ago" the man gestured with a nod towards the animal in the corner as he sat on a log in front of the fire. Sansa said nothing and just stared, glancing once again over her shoulder at the sleeping dragon.

"Aren't you cold"? The man asked. Sansa nodded with downcast eyes, she wasn't just cold, she was positively frozen what with her lack of appropriate clothing and sodden skirts. "Come, sit" he said slapping the small space left on the log beside him.

Sansa hesitated, everything she had been told about wildlings taught her that getting close to this man would be a dangerous move but the painful chill wracking her shivering body screamed at her to take the comfort of the flame. She moved quickly to the seat and tried to position herself right on the edge, giving her some space and hopefully distance enough to bolt out of the door should he try anything.

"Thank you" she mumbled as she rubbed her outstretched numb hands together close to the fire's warmth.

The wildling watched her intently and without shame for a while. Sansa wasn't sure if the redness of her cheeks was from the fire's warmth or the heat from his close inspection. Without warning, he reached over and curiously fingered the fabric of her skirt, rubbing it between forefinger and thumb and tracing the embroidery with fascination whilst Sansa held her breath. Quite suddenly, he rose from his seat making Sansa jump. He picked up a fur from what she assumed was his sleeping area and promptly wrapped it around her shoulders as he stood behind her. Sansa froze rigid. She felt him take a gentle hold of her braid and untuck it from beneath the fur.

"Pretty" he says. Sansa's not sure if he's talking to her or himself but she's fairly convinced that she can feel him playing with the ends of her hair. She tugs his gifted fur tighter around herself as if it were armour against anything that could harm her - wildlings included.

Sansa tries to ignore him as he continues to stand over her, playing with her braid, making her shiver - or is that the cold? Can she come up with a plan to get out of here and back home? She busies herself once again with her arms outstretched over the fire, diligently trying to ignore the strange wildling.

"Are you hungry"? He asks from behind her. Sansa doesn't answer so the man sits back down on the bench - too close - she shuffles away from him a little. "I don't have much to offer I'm afraid, only milk and some rabbit I got on this morning's hunt". He looks expectedly at Sansa and finally her courtesies win out.

"No...thank you" she says with a shake of her head and a small smile. He's still staring and she wishes he wouldn't. Sansa clears her throat "the dragon - he's your pet"?

The wildling smiles triumphantly as if coaxing her to speak is some kind of victory. "She's a girl....and no, she's not my pet...I do have a wolf though" he finishes with a proud grin. Sansa glances round at the decidedly wolf-less hut "he's out hunting" the wildling supplies as if sensing her query.

"Oh" Sansa says, her hands and arms are thoroughly warmed now so she encases them back within the fur, pulling it tight around her body, it smells woodsy and comforting.

"The dragon started to bring me things about three years ago... I never know when she's going to turn up or what she'll bring.... but she seems to always bring me something I am in need of" he licks his full lips and his eyes quickly flash up and down her frame. Something low in Sansa's belly squirms and wriggles.

"And you're in need of a girl are you"? Sansa says curtly with a sniff before wincing when she hears how her question sounded - she'd not meant it like that, like she was there to service his 'needs'. Sansa shifts her gaze from the flames to the wildling, his mouth twitched in amusement. He was quite comely to look upon really, even with his scarred brow, riot of inky curls and a smudge of dirt on his cheek that Sansa itched to clean.

"Aye, perhaps" he smiled warmly "perhaps she thought me lonely".

"You live here alone"? Sansa asked, making a show of appraising this man's hut. Maybe I can befriend him, maybe he'll help me get to the Wall, to Castle Black. Father would send for me from there.

"Aye....We stayed with a camp for a while, my Mother and I, but she grew tired of the attempted stealings and we decided to move out here....she's been gone near a year now and I....well, I just...stayed" the man's voice was laced with sadness that weighed heavily on his features even as he continued to stare at Sansa, the light from the fire flickering in his eyes.

"How?...your mother..."? Sansa's voice drifted off into the smoke from the fire.

"A fever" he answered quickly as he prodded the flames with a stick.

"I'm sorry" her eyes drifted to the floor before she remembered what he'd said. "What do you mean... that your mother grew tired of the...stealings"?

The man barked out a short laugh, ducked his head and crooked a finger at Sansa, beckoning her to lean in closer, as if he were 'bout to divulge something secretive. Sansa complied, only realising how close they now were when she found she could clearly see flecks of violet in his grey eyes. "When we want to take a wife, we steal one" he whispered with a grin.

"That's barbaric"! Sansa exclaimed, sitting up straight.

"I think it better than you southerners who give your daughters away for titles and castles".

Sansa's cheeks flamed with irritation "I am no southerner! I am of the North"!

The man shrugged "you're from south of the Wall - that makes you a southerner by my reckoning" he concluded, rubbing the scruff of his beard in thought. "Do your women have a choice"?

"What"?

"When they take a husband - do they have a choice"?

_No - not at all._

"Not...not really" Sansa replied, huddling the fur up to her neck.

"Well there you are - Free women can choose their man...they can fight off an unwanted stealing...or steal a man for themselves...exchanging your daughter as if she were chattel - now that's barbaric" he cocked a brow.

Sansa wrinkled her nose and gazed at the fire in thought. "You didn't think to steal yourself a woman to keep from being lonely"? She asks, genuinely curious.

"Never seen one worth stealing at the camp" he shrugged "besides, I value my balls too much" he chuckles and then gives in to a full hearty bark of laughter when he sees Sansa's shocked reaction to his words. "You know" he starts, taking out a small knife from somewhere in his furs. Sansa's eyes widen at the blade but all he does is start whittling away at a stick. "I've witnessed men loose teeth when they dared steal the wrong woman... fuck! One man lost his eye"!

Sansa furrowed her brow in contemplation as she watched the man continue to work the wood to a sharp point.

"The way I see it, if I'm going to risk that kind of injury, then the woman better be worth it". The wildling glanced up from his handiwork with a grin.

"So you've avoided injury by getting your dragon to steal one for you"?

The man snorted "No... you're not stolen....you're not mine" he flicked his eyes over her again. It made Sansa shiver.

"Good.....I need....I need your help" Sansa straightened her spine "I need to get back home".

The man stared at her for a while before gesturing to her with his short blade "you want me to trek with you down South"?!

"To Castle Black, yes" Sansa nods.

"You've lost your mind woman"!

"They wouldn't touch you! The men of The Night's Watch... not once I explain that you're returning me to my Father, to Lord Stark" the man's head jerks up at the mention of Sansa's Lord father but she does not notice, too busy with her desperate pleading. "I'll tell them that you've protected me and kept me from harm...that you're helping me"!

The wildling goes back to his whittling and all is quiet for a time, the only sound being the crackle and pop of the fire and the scrape scrape of his knife.

Sansa began to let the sinking feeling wash over her before he finally grunted and levelled those grey eyes with hers again.

"What's in it for me"?

 


	26. Not how it was meant to happen - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the best way of pushing past a wee bit of writers block when it comes to working on one of my WIPs? Why, writing utter nonsense like this of course!.....
> 
> Modern AU, Jon is Robb's best friend. Sansa is 22 and Robb and Jon are 25.

It wasn't how he'd imagined sleeping with Sansa Stark would be - and over the years he'd imagined it a lot. He's thought about caressing and kissing every inch of her smooth skin while slowly making love to her with adoration and devotion....He'd also imagined fucking her hard and fast whilst palming her ass and tits and whispering filthy words in her ear. (Jon's loathed to admit that the latter scenario probably comes to mind more frequently than the former).

Whatever he had imagined it had never been anywhere close to the way it actually happened - a drunken fumble up against a wall at the Tyrell's annual New Years party.

At first he thought he'd dreamt it, but the encounter kept coming back to his memory in flashes, and all he knows for certain was she'd tasted of Malibu and he'd embarrassed himself fully by not lasting long at all as Sansa panted and tugged and giggled and moaned.

No, Jon wished it could have been different. Wished for all the world that he would have sucked up enough courage and actually asked her out, actually had the opportunity to dote on and indulge her as she deserved. He wished with all his might, praying to all known gods and even entertaining the idea of some sort of ritual sacrifice to turn back time and prevent himself from becoming THAT GUY - that guy that knocked up Sansa Stark.

She hadn't even told him yet when Robb came bursting into his room and bloodied his nose as well as dislocating his jaw. He had apparently walked in on his little sister sat on her bed with red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, clutching at the little stick that had two blue lines instead of the preferred one.

Robb has only just started talking to him again albeit strained and clipped. Arya still refuses to look at him and he prefers not to dwell on Mr and Mrs Stark's newfound feelings of loathing towards the boy who used to practically live at their house.

The only one who doesn't seem to hate him now is Sansa. _She should do,_ Jon thinks to himself in his darker moments.

 _Maybe we could make a go of it- become a couple,_ he wonders in his more optimistic moods. Those thoughts are quickly squashed by feelings of inferiority and guilt over what he had done - ruined this perfect girl's perfect life. She won't want him to fuck it up even more.

It all became real at the 12 week scan. Jon stared at the screen in awe of the grey blob that _sort of_ looked like the profile of a head. You could _sort of_ make out a leg and an arm. And he saw it move - jolt like someone had tickled it by surprise. Catelyn plastered on a beaming smile for her daughter while she clutched her hand and watched the screen, dutifully ignoring Jon's presence in the dark room with the blinking screen and the sonographer wiping the last of the clear gel from Sansa's still flat stomach.

 _How can that be in there?_ He wondered as he stared at Sansa's exposed skin.

Another disappointing milestone in the depressingly non-existent Jon and Sansa relationship came in the form of him asking Sansa to move in with him. He had previously daydreamed of them being hopelessly devoted to one another when he would present her with a wrapped up antique jewellery box with a key inside (or some other utterly sappy scenario).

Instead it was a blurted and yet somewhat mumbled "why don't you move out?....we could get a place...move in together"? All while Sansa had been unloading her gripes about being 22 and still living with her parents.

Jon soon found out that if pining for her from afar was bad, then living with Sansa Stark was near torture. Not only was he surrounded by her - her pretty belongings, a hint of her perfume in every room, her lacy underwear drying on the airer and her sleepy head on his lap whilst they watched shitty tv together, but she was getting more and more beautiful every fucking day.

It started with 'the glow' that apparently pregnancy brings on - not that Sansa didn't have a special aura about her anyway, but this, this was something else. Her skin was dewy, her hair shone brighter and the twinkle in her eyes were all Sansa and then some.

Then it was the slight swelling of her stomach, a swelling that she would stroke and smile down at tenderly and encourage Jon to touch - _"look, can you feel it Jon? Our little one is growing in there"!_

Next came the constant touching and cupping of her enlarged breasts _"God! They're so sensitive"!_ Jon really wished he could find out just how sensitive they were.

Jon didn't think he would ever jerk off as much as he had done as a teenager, but he was wrong about that entirely he realised, as he obsessed about the gorgeous redhead sleeping in the next bedroom, with his child growing inside her.

He had near enough resigned himself to being nothing more than the father to Sansa Stark's child when she crept into his pitch black room late one night...

"Jon"? She whispered

"Yea"

"You're awake"? Sansa asked the dark.

"Yea"

Silence followed and Jon almost sat up to try to discern whether or not he was dreaming when he felt her hand on his bare shoulder.

"Jon...I.....I need some help with something".

"Ok"

"Will you help me"?

"Of course"

Jon heard the slight rustling of clothing and then felt his blanket move before the unmistakable sensation of being straddled quickly nudged his cock into life.

Jon's suddenly shaky hands found the smooth skin of her thighs. He held his breath as he realised she was naked on top of him, her nipples grazing his chest as he felt her lean over him to whisper in his ear.

"Please Jon....please will you help me with this"? She all but pleaded in a whimper, rocking herself over his cock.

"Yes.... Gods yes" he breathed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I have 'a thing' for Sansa being preggo and horny.
> 
> Also - don't hate me.... there will be another chapter to this one.


	27. Not How It Was Meant To Happen - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely people! Just a heads up - this little fic will have 3 parts and when I post the third part I will most likely post it as a separate fic (not sure why I didn't do that to start with - must have been overtired when I posted part 1 lol)
> 
> So yea - here's part 2 but part 3 won't be posted here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing something uncharacteristically angsty and needed a little break from that so here's part 2 of the 'oops I knocked up Sansa Stark' fic also known as 'Sansa's pregnant with my baby and I find that highly erotic - an autobiography by Jon Snow'
> 
> Oh yea - SMUT AHOY CAP'N!!

It wasn't romantic, how it happened - not that Jon ever suspected that he could be called 'romantic' at all. But he'd never thought that it'd happen like this - he never thought that the moment he realised his huge crush on Sansa Stark had indeed morphed into actual god-damned soul crushing _love_ would be whilst she rode his cock in the dark.

It kind of started when he heard his name fall from her lips - she said it in such a quiet, sweet way that Jon could have been forgiven for not noticing the needy, pleading tone to it. Sansa needed him. Sansa-Perfect-From-Her-Head-To-Her-Toes-Stark needed _him_. This woman, this achingly flawless woman who could conquer the world with one flick of her pinky finger needed _Jon-Fucking-Snow._

He remembers it now as he stares into his morning coffee... How he'd been hesitant to touch her. In the pitch black of his room, Sansa was completely naked on top of him and sliding herself down his length slowly and humming appreciatively - as if she were savouring one of her favourite lemon cupcakes.

If he couldn't have felt how wet she was, he could definitely hear it - those slick noises in the dark as she rose and fell would haunt him pleasantly for the rest of his days. But he _could_ feel it - _oh boy_ , could he feel it!

Jon had kept his hands securely on Sansa's thighs as they bracketed his hips - as if he felt that should he try to touch any other part of her she'd disappear like an apparition or dream.

"Jon"

-And there it was, his simple, common name that she had said dozens of times before, but this was different (and not just because this time she had his cock inside her). This was a plea, a prayer, the sexiest, most lovely thing he'd ever heard.

"Jon please"

_There it was again._

Sansa took his hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. "Gently...they're sensitive" she'd whispered like he wasn't about to treat her like she was made of exquisite fine crystal, like she wasn't the most precious thing in Jon's world.

He remembers the noise - that fucking noise! - that escaped her when he swiped the pads of his thumbs across her nipples - a kind of whimper, kind of sob.

She moved his hands for him again, this time resting them on the swell of her belly. Jon is still trying to figure out if he is completely depraved for being so turned on that he came there and then.

_Her pregnant stomach Jon? Really? **Really**?!_

"Sorry"! He panted after his grunting had subsided and he'd realised that once again, Sansa Stark had reduced him to a pathetic puddle of a man. That she turned him on so much that he comes as quickly as a horny teenager.

_This has never happened before....what the fuck is wrong with me?_

Sansa, being the angel that she is, whispered "shhh, it's okay" as she continued rocking on him for some friction, keeping his gradually softening cock tight inside her.

"Do that thing again" Sansa said sweetly as she brought Jon's hands back to her breasts. He brushed over her nipples again.

"Like that"? He asked, his voice cracked and hoarse, his pulse still pumping in his ears from his orgasm.

"Mmmm...yes please Jon" Sansa moaned as her hips swivelled.

After a while with Sansa grinding down on him and Jon carefully massaging her chest, Sansa made a whining sound at the back of her throat.

"Can you sit up please Jon"

Jon complied and wanted to tell her that he'd happily do anything she asked. Absolutely anything.

Sansa wound her arms around his neck and slid her fingers up through his hair before she started kissing him. Jon groaned into her mouth when their tongues slid against each other. Her breasts and small bump pressed against him caused Jon's cock to twitch.

_Jesus! Do I have a fucking pregnancy kink or something? Or is it just Sansa?_

Sansa giggled. "I felt that"

"Yea"?

"Mm-hmm.....do you...do you think you could get hard again for me Jon"?

_Already more than halfway there._

"Yes" he breathed.

"Good" she whispered in is ear "I want you to fuck me from behind".

He very nearly proclaimed his undying love for her right there, and then twice later when he was pushing into her, gripping her hips and listening to her muffle her moans into his pillow.

He grins wildly as he takes a sip of his morning coffee, remembering how he'd made up for his failings by making Sansa come twice, practically screaming his name. By the time he'd finished with her, she was thoroughly wrung out and collapsed into his bed, panted out a 'thank you' and quickly fell asleep.

_'Thank you'? God! Why are you thanking me?!_

His mood was quickly squashed however, when Sansa came into the kitchen breezily calling her 'good morning' and turning her back to him sat at the kitchen island to pop some bread in the toaster. She stood there in her little pink sleep shorts and tight camisole top. She didn't turn to talk to him, she didn't even look at him.

Jon's fingers itched to touch her, to come up behind her and wrap his arms around Sansa's growing body. Instead of that, he fastidiously watched her prepare her breakfast while he crunched his cereal. He opened his mouth a couple of times to say something but no words came. When Sansa was finished she turned to give him a small smile and then retreated with her tea and toast back to her bedroom, her door making a depressing thud when she kicked it closed with her heel.

_Right. Where the fuck do we go from here? What was that? What are we now? A couple? Friends with benefits?_

Jon's heart sank through his body, down the kitchen stool and completely through the floor into 'Old Nan's' apartment downstairs.

He was in a daze for the rest of the morning, trying to figure out if he'd done something wrong, if he'd just got his hopes up too high and what the hell he was going to do about his messed up love life. Before he knew it he was in the back office at work not really thinking about the interviews he was going to be conducting today.

Jon was the manager of a local hardware store, the pay wasn't great but the store owner, Mr Mormont felt like a father figure to him, he had a fantastic team and, well, he just kind of fell into it. He'd started at Castle Black Hardware back when he was still in college, just working there at weekends and gradually as some staff members left or retired, Jon got promoted in their place.

"Your interviewees are here bossman" Grenn bellowed as he passed Jon's open office door before swivelling on the balls of his feet and coming back to pop his head over the threshold. "And one of them's a girl" he waggles his eyebrows. Jon rolled his eyes and playfully chucked a pen at his friend's head".

Out of the four candidates for the part time store assistant job, there were only two that Jon could see fitting in at the small family business - so, it was between Olly, a very young lad fresh out of school and not yet knowing what he wanted out of life but enthusiastic none-the-less OR it was to be Ygritte, a bold, feisty woman about Jon's age who had some experience with construction, so would have some useful knowledge. She was friendly, almost teasing in a way during her interview, and a couple of times he could have sworn she was flirting with him.

_Probably to try and secure the job._

Jon had struggled to stay focussed during the interviews but found it most difficult with Ygritte's, his mind was constantly wandering and getting distracted by her red hair.

_Sansa's is lighter I think, more golden tones in the sunlight. And straighter too._

"...so yea, I guess I'd say that one of my best strengths is that I know what I want and I'm normally determined to get it" Ygritte said, replying to one of Jon's standard interview questions with a very direct look at him, an arched eyebrow and a playful smirk on her lips.

"Oh...err.." she'd jolted him out of his musings, he looked down at his old worn out clipboard to scramble for the next question. "Weaknesses...what would you say your weaknesses are"?

"I don't like it when I don't get what I want"

Jon gulped and nodded before concluding her interview.

***********

Later that day as he was locking up the shopfront, lost in his own thoughts about how quickly he could get back to Sansa and what exactly he was going to say to her when he did.

_Should I just outright ask her if she wants anything more than sex? Should I see if she talks about it first?_

"Jon"! Someone called.

Jon turned around, his work keys still in his hand as he saw Ygritte bounding towards him from across the street. She stopped in front of him looking a little flushed and beamed a big friendly smile.

"I was just wondering when you were going to make your decision about the job? I forgot to ask at my interview". She asked, placing a hand on his forearm almost as if she was trying to stop him from getting away.

"Oh..well...I was going to send a letter out but...I guess.....yea, you've got the job... if you want it" Jon stammered, a little bemused at her forwardness.

"Oh thank you Jon"! she squealed and launched herself at him for a hug. Jon stiffened in the embrace and let out a nervous chuckle as he pat her on the back, not quite sure what to do with his hands.

As Ygritte moved to pull out of her enthusiastic hug, she pressed her lips to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. When she pulled away completely she had a wicked gleam in her eye.

"You've made me a very happy woman" she purred before nodding her goodbye and walking away.

_Oh shit....how big a mistake have I just made?_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Ygritte fans - she's just too easy to make into the villain!


	28. Should Have Seen It Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one - I wrote it whilst in the waiting room at the dentist today - I'm not sure what you'll do with it but here - have it anyway *shrugs*

Robb should have seen it coming. He should have been suspicious when his best friend Jon could no longer hold an intelligent conversation whenever Sansa would join them at the pool out back. His words would falter and he would stammer through his reasons for choosing Dorne University or when they were talking football. His eyes would flit from Robb to where Sansa would be laid out on a lounger or rubbing lotion into her skin.

He should have seen it coming when Jon took to drunkenly teasing and tickling Sansa whenever she'd tag along on their nights out. Sansa would ask Jon to come and rescue her from any creeps she didn't like hitting on her - but only if she gave him the 'secret signal' of dancing her fingers along her choker necklace. Robb can't remember witnessing one single guy make an attempt on Sansa where she didn't stroke that damned necklace, causing Jon to leap from his place next to Robb and near enough shove Sansa's suitor to the ground. He guessed that he must have chalked it up to the drink when Sansa would fling her legs over Jon's and giggle into his shoulder in the back of the taxi on the way home.

He should have seen it coming when Jon stopped going straight to Robb's room when he came over to the Stark house. Instead, he seemed to make a beeline for wherever Sansa was. Sometimes Robb would find them laughing together nearly an hour after Jon's arrival (this fact alone should have been highly suspicious - Jon really isn't THAT funny).

He should have seen it coming when Sansa seemed to know more about what Jon was doing down in Dorne than Robb did. He'd ask what's got his sister grinning like a fool down at her phone, expecting her to show him the latest hilarious cat meme, only for her to answer "just Jon".

He definitely should have asked a few more questions about where she went for her impromptu weekend get away with 'friends' when she came back with a fresh smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose and the slight blush of sun on her shoulders. White Harbour really doesn't get all that warm after all.

He should have seen it coming until it was all too late and he DID see it coming - and by 'it', I mean 'Jon' as Robb unknowingly opened the door to Sansa's bedroom door without announcing himself one summer.

He was greeted (perhaps 'greeted' is the wrong word - 'slapped', 'punched', 'blinded' might be better) with the sight of his best friends bare arse bouncing up and down as he covered Sansa's apparently naked body with his own. Neither of them had noticed his presence as Jon grunts and pounded into Sansa with her long legs wrapped around his torso, linked at the ankle above his back.

"Fuck! Sansa!...sweetheart...I'm gonna cum" Jon admitted through gritted teeth.

"Mmmm Jon...Cum for me baby" Sansa moans.

A stunned Robb backed out of the room quickly and quietly as the creaking of the bed picked up speed followed by Jon's loud strangled groan.

Yes - Robb had no right to feel as shocked as he did - he really should have seen it coming.


	29. Game of Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa ships....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Amy manages to trick a family member into babysitting both kids? Does she do house chores or start packing for the house move happening soon? Nope...she wastes time writing this nonsense....

"It's on! It's on It's on"! Sansa cried as she barrelled into Jon and Robb on the sofa."Aaaah!! I'm sooo excited" she clapped happily before grabbing one of his hands and one of Robb's, gleefully stomping her ballet flats on the hardwood floor once she'd seated herself between them.

Jon let go of her soft hand and shifted in his seat so that her thigh was no longer touching his. Sansa didn't seem to notice ( _thank God_ ) but she didn't help matters by then grabbing his knee before joyfully slapping it in quick succession whilst squealing "turn it on! _Turn it on_ "!

"What are you going on about woman"?! Robb muttered with irritation, wrenching his hand from his sister's grasp.

"Game of Crowns"! She shrieked excitedly "its starting again _tonight_! In like..." Sansa whipped out her phone from her tight jeans pocket to check the time "four minutes"!

"Game of Crowns'? Isn't that show just full of sex and violence? Doesn't sound like your sort of thing" Jon asked. Sansa turned to him to answer. He'd forgotten how close she was, and how, now that she faced him, he would be able to count the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose or see the flecks of indigo blue amongst the crystal of her eyes.

"No Jon...it's not just that! _Oh my god_ , it's sooo much more than that"! Sansa pulled her hand away from where it had been resting on his knee to place it over her heart, dramatically emphasising just how much she adored this show. He internally scolded himself for missing her touch instantly. He really needed to get over this stupid crush he's had on his best friends little sister - especially now the three of them shared an apartment together.

"It pretty much is just death and titties" Robb agreed with Jon before taking a slurp of his coffee. Sansa shook her head.

"Nuh-ah!..It's full of intriguing plots, myths and folklore, prophecies, historical parallels, amazing battle scenes, fantastic costumes, great actors and best of all....the ship to end all ships"!

"A ship? You're excited about a boat"? Jon asked with amusement.

Sansa rolled her eyes "no, _Grandad_...a ship? A relationship? As in people want characters to get it on"? She explained. Jon continued to look perplexed. "Gaaah! Where have you beeeen?! Do you even Internet"?!

Jon looked over Sansa's shoulder at Robb for guidance. All he got was an eye roll and a shrug.

"DonSa"! Sansa proclaimed, as if that made it all the more clearer.

"Gesundheit"

"Nooo Jon! Don't tease me" she whined, even though Jon could tell she was trying hard not to let his stupid remark make her laugh. He liked it when she did that.

"Don and Sanka!....I reh-heeally want them to get together"!

"Aren't they brother and sister"? Robb asked, causing Sansa to turn in her seat to face him, giving Jon a small reprieve from staring at her maddeningly kissable lips as she spoke.

"Half....plus there's a theory that Don is really her cousin and I'm putting aaaallll my eggs in that particular basket".

"But still.....cousins"? Robb said with a laughably exaggerated grimace.

"That wouldn't matter in this world" Sansa reasons, gesturing towards the tv that had now been turned over to her desired channel "besides, Prince Philip is the Queen's cousin"!

"Really"? Robb's brows rose up his head. "Dirty ol' gal that Liz I reckon" he snickered. "I lost interest since they killed Rodd Schtark off anyway".

"Oh don't remind me"! Sansa said dramatically, reaching behind herself to grasp Jon's knee again as her other hand made a fist that she pressed to her chest whilst muttering 'the North remembers' under her breath.

"Hang on, didn't Don get killed at the end of the last season"? Robb asked.

"Yes but he WILL come back to life again" Jon didn't miss the way Sansa squeezed his knee for emphasis.

"Oh yea"? Jon croaked "how's he gonna manage that"?

Sansa turned to him, the look on her face telling him that she'd already had some theory ready to recite.

"Through the magic of all his female fan's horny prayers" Robb interrupted.

"Me included" Sansa adds after giving her brother a glare and then fanning her face with her hand and sighing. "The show can't loose him... he's too hot"

Just then the theme tune to her show started and Sansa abruptly sat up straight and squealed "it's starting! It's starting"!

She kept her firm hold on Jon's knee, in fact, she started to absentmindedly move it higher up his leg.

Jon had heard the tune before, and to completely deflect from the fact that his face must look as red as a tomato right now due to the rapidly growing swelling in his boxers, he started to mimic a violin being played and hummed along with the opening credits.

"Death and tit-ties, death and tit-ties, death and tit-ties" Robb chimes in, singing along awfully with the tune.

"Stop it you idiots"! Sansa slapped both their chests but laughed despite herself.

After the (very lengthy) opening sequence where Sansa booed a particular part (the wrong family flag thingy was on the Schtark's castle or something), the episode started with a shot of a dead man in the snow.

"There he is! My future husband" Sansa coos.

"Sans, he's dead, he's not coming back, you'll have to content yourself with him in that terrible gladiator film he was in" Robb mutters.

"Hey! His thighs in that Roman skirt thing were a cinematic masterpiece, I'll have you know!....and he's coming back! Just you watch"!

Jon stays silent, furrowing his brow as he watched the fake blood ooze into the snow surrounding the dead man on the screen.

_I'm sure Sansa said I looked like that actor once....didn't she??_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo 'Don and Sanka'...'DonSa'.....Rodd Schtark....yup - I did that. I'm sorry.
> 
> I'm sure you all know what I meant by Robb's singing along with the theme tune but if not, watch this......https://youtu.be/ijto_mTta-c


	30. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came to me this afternoon. I don't know why.... but it wouldn't stop whispering in my ear until I'd typed it out.
> 
> BEWARE - mentions of Jon x Dany

_My Dearest Sansa,_

_I hope my words find you well and that you are not too angry with me for how hastily I departed from Winterfell's gates. I know that the North is safe within your capable hands ~~my love~~ \- more capable than mine anyway, but you know that no one listens to me on these matters._

_I'm afraid that this missive will be littered with apologies. Some of which you may choose to accept, some you may not. My first regret is for not sending word to you sooner. The reasons for which are linked with my second askance for forgiveness ~ I know that you understand what I mean when I say that I should apologise for my behaviour towards you in the moons leading up to my departure. I had distanced myself from you purposefully and lost my temper with you through no fault of your own. I hope you know that ~ it was not your fault ~~my love.~~ I had been battling a war within my own mind well before we drew up our plans against the Long Night, and it is that battle that caused me to act so with you. ~~And then that bloody night I had gotten too deep into my cups and cornered you in that alcove, only to put my mouth on your sweet~~ I know that you have blamed my drinking for the 'incident' that one night,  ~~but have you ever considered that there was more to it? I have, I've thought about it daily.~~  I will continue to feel shamed by it._

_~~I dream of you nightly too, did you know that? Somehow I feel like you are aware of it. In my dreams I am not here at Dragonstone, I am with you in your chambers at Winterfell. The hearth is always baking the room in its warm firelight and I feel like I can smell the rose water and~~ ~~lavender oil you use on your skin. They are comforting dreams. In those visions you talk to me in your bed whilst you caress me softly. That part is odd though, as you talk about me as if I weren't there. You tell me that you 'miss Jon' and that you 'wish Jon was here'. Sometimes you cry into my neck. Then you let me lay close to your side before we both fall asleep~~._

_It is my own thoughts that drove me away so quickly. Stupid really ~ how does one flee their own ~~depraved~~ thoughts? I am ashamed to say that I wanted something that I could never have. It was that want that begged me to seek comfort. I tried to look for that comfort in the arms of another woman. It did not work and now I have an immense feeling of guilt that I feel I may never shake. I have disrespected you, my own feelings for you and also the woman I have lain with. I fear this is just yet another reason for my wish to rewrite history. _

_But I cannot rewrite history , no more than I can become a trueborn son of some other Lord. You may think it absurd, but that is what I wish Sansa ~ to be worthy of ~~you~~ someone like you that I might take to wife and make a mother of ~~you.~~_

_I fear that I may be rambling quite uncontrollably now, and so will end with the news that you are most likely awaiting ~ Daenerys Targaryen has agreed to join with us to help defeat the Others, she will allow further mining for Dragonglass and has already sent a shipment to you ~ you may have even received it before this letter makes its way to your hands._

_I am coming back to you, if you'll have me ~~my love~~ dearest ~~sister~~ Sansa._

_Yours_

_Jon Snow_

 

Jon read and re-read the missive before balling up the parchment with a sigh and throwing it to the flames in his hearth. The paper along with his words were quickly swallowed by the lick of flames. He trudged back to the writing desk in his guest quarters, pulled out a fresh leaf of parchment and yanked the quill from it's inkwell. Before he could scratch out any words however, he was interrupted by Ser Davos, barging into his room with so much urgency that his normally composed face was flushed red.

"Forgive me your Grace! Your sister! She is here"!

Jon took far to long to comprehend his Hand's words.

"Sansa"?

"Yes your Grace"!

"What's happened"?! Jon exclaimed, bolting from his seat and rushing past the Onion Knight to the hallway "Who is taking up Wardship if Sansa is here"?!

"Your Brother, your Grace".

Jon halted dead and spun on his heels. "What"?!

"Brandon Stark - Lady Sansa says he has returned to Winterfell and that he brought news of great importance to you....it is why she is here Jon, she says she could not trust the words to a Raven".

Jon gaped at his advisor disbelievingly before turning once more to seek out his sister. Whilst his footsteps where hasty, he also felt the weight of the words he had disregarded to the flames and hoped beyond hope that he would have the courage to speak them out loud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my headcanon - of course he finds the courage, Sansa tells him of his parentage and they have lots of sex and babies. THE END :-)


	31. Alpha Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon doesn't like his cousin's suitors. Sansa 'rewards' him.

It started with his own anger and uncontrollable need to assert dominance over these unworthy lordlings - these pompous pricks that presumed that they need only flash their lands and titles under his cousin's nose and she'd be chomping at the bit to be wedded and bedded once more. But now, now it had grown into something quite different, Jon mused with a smirk as he made his way to the training yard.

All those who visited Winterfell to try their hand at wooing Lady Sansa - at attempting to coax her away from him, had also been eager to train with the famed 'Bastard King in the North' during their stay. That's when it had started.

Jon would speak with Sam in the morning, they would chat idly about the comings and goings, the stocks and preserves, the health and the wealth of Winterfell - but that wasn't what Jon really wanted to hear - he wanted to know whom he would be sparring with that day, and more specifically, which ones are visiting with the aim of taking Sansa away from him - those little (or big - Jon didn't care) shits got what was coming to them in the training yard.

This continued for half a moons turn before Sansa commented that each and every suitor that approached her lately would be sporting split lips, cut brows and arms in slings. _"Are you trying to kill off all the eligible men in Westeros Jon"?_ she had giggled that evening in their shared solar. Jon only grunted at the resemblance of truth in her jest. Sansa laughed even more.

It was the next day that she'd gathered her ladies to watch the sparring unfold. She'd never done that before - it had sent a renewed source of energy to Jon's limbs when he'd seen her watching him. her excited breaths causing the swell of her breasts to strain against her bodice as her chest rose and fell, and flushed delightfully. He knew her gaze was trained on him and him alone and Jon meant to make it worth her while as he thrust and parried, spun and lunged until his opponent was on his back in the dust, panting and shrieking for Jon to yield - for half a second images of the man on the ground touching Sansa as Jon had longed to do flitted into his mind, and for the other half of that second he considered ignoring the lordling's plea. 

Once Jon had bested all those he'd challenged, he stalked over to greet the Lady of Winterfell and her tittering companions. Briefly, her eyes had looked hungrily at him and her mouth was seemingly trying to sate that hunger by chewing on her own bottom lip. But, no, that could not have been it, he must have been mistaken - Sansa would not look at him like that.

It was that very afternoon that she'd come to his chamber after his training session for the first time. Jon usually bathed to prepare for the afternoon's council meeting or petitions, to wash away the sweat and the dirt as well as the anger and frustration.

"I'm not done yet" he called out as he heard the latch on his chamber door open and close, annoyed at which ever servant had deemed those paltry few minutes he'd had to soak in the hot water as sufficient.

"Good" came Sansa's voice behind him. 

"Sansa"?! Jon turned his head to clarify what his own ears were telling him as he cupped himself for modesty. It was indeed his fair cousin, standing in front of his latched chamber door, she had with her a small deep colbalt blue apothecary bottle - the rim of which, she was absentmindedly tapping her lips with as she contemplated him in the tub.

"I thought you might be sore after your sparring session Jon" Sansa said, walking forwards "I have some sweet marjoram oil that may help". 

"Sansa...I don't think that this is proper" Jon began to protest as she neared him.

"Oh hush Jon, do you think I still care for propriety"? She said, sliding a small stool across the stone floor to seat herself behind him. The scrape echoing off of his chamber walls. "Besides, I need to take care of my protector don't I"?

"Protector"? Jon grunted.

"Is it not so then Jon? Is it just pure coincidence that the men that find themselves at the receiving end of your most brutal attacks also seem to be the very same men that come to call for my hand"? Sansa began pouring some oil onto one hand before smoothing it over and rubbing with the other.

"I don't know what you mean" Jon lied, keeping his gaze forward and his hands covering his cock.

"Mmmm... I'm sure you don't-" she lowered herself so that her lips were a mere inch from Jon's ear, her breath tickling his skin as her voice caressed her next two warm, husky words "-my King".

Jon felt like the energy that had fuelled him whilst sparring that day had returned, he felt tense and caught alight, his throat bobbed and his cock hardened as he felt Sansa smooth her hands up and over his shoulders. She spread the oil with a pleasant glide over his skin before she began pressing, kneading and working at his tired muscles. Jon felt the tension melt away under her touch.

"Does that feel nice"? She whispered in his ear. Jon groaned loud and long in response before lolling his head back. Sansa chuckled and continued her ministrations.

Somehow her fingers were delicate and yet firm as they rubbed and soothed - Jon felt like she must possess some sort of magic in those hands for he was certain he was in a trance, the heady scent from the oil mixing with the steam from his bathwater.

"All done"? Sansa purred in question at his ear.

"Mmmmm".

She pressed her lips to Jon's cheek before rising and leaving the room without another word.

It was the very next day that Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, made her announcement - _none of her marriage proposals will even be considered should the suitor not be able to best her cousin, the King in the North in the training yard._ This somehow made things better and worse. Jon felt that now he really was fighting for her. To keep her here with him - that if he should lose a match then a match of a different sort would be made shortly after. He could not have that.

Weeks followed, all the same - Sansa's suitors would challenge him and Jon would not relent until they were all piles of whimpering blood and bruises in the dirt. Sansa continued to visit after his training sessions to rub oils into his grateful overused muscles. It wasn't until he'd nearly killed that over-zealous southern lordling that the number of eager young hopeful fools started to dwindle down to near enough one every few moons.

"I haven't received a marriage offer in a good long while" Sansa said behind him as she continued to knead Jon's shoulders after his training. She lowered herself to speak quietly in his ear "I think you may have seen them all off".

Jon groaned as he enjoyed the feel of her hands working their magic on him once again. "Is that what you wanted my Lady? For me to see them all off"?

Her hands stilled momentarily before they changed their touch to one of a light scratching of nails up and down his back, making Jon shiver despite the warmth of his bathwater. "Yes" Sansa breathed. She moved forwards once more to whisper in his ear. He could feel the length of her hair brush against his back and then stick to the oil she had worked into his skin. "And I've never thanked you for it" Sansa murmured before pressing her lips to the sensitive patch of skin below his earlobe. Jon held his breath and heard her own hitch when she pulled her mouth away from him. He quickly surmised what had caused her reaction once he had realised that in his relaxation he had forgotten to cover himself - there, in full view under the water was Jon's cock standing hard and proud as it always did whenever Sansa had her hands on him. Oddly enough, he couldn't seem to move his arms to shield himself from her view as she continued to peek down at him over his shoulder.

Everything seemed to still within the room, even though the water continued to ripple, the steam continued to swirl and their breaths continued to grow gradually from steady to ragged.

"How should I show my gratitude to you my King"? Sansa rasped in his ear. He'd come to know that her mood had changed when she used his title - whenever Sansa was feeling playful or teasing, he was 'her King'. He enjoyed the sound of it dripping from her mouth and marvelled at how such a simple thing could excite him so? "What could I do for you"? Sansa repeated her question as one hand slid down his shoulder blade and followed his ribs under his arm to come to his chest, her fingers lightly grazing a nipple as she went. The fingertips of her other hand danced lightly at the back of his neck. "What can I do to please you Jon"? she asked, pressing her nose to his hair and her lips to the skin behind his ear.

Jon's breathing stumbled to a halt, he knew what he wanted but did not dare risk offending his sweet cousin by asking. 

And then, as if she'd heard his internal pleas, her hand snaked lower, down to his stomach. Jon's cock practically throbbed with the implications of her movements. He clenched his jaw and let out a shaky exhale as her hand breached the warm waters and dipped low enough that her fingers began to play with his man's hair, her knuckles every now and again grazing his cock as it strained upward. "Would this-" Sansa delicately wrapped her hand around him "-please you"?

"Yes" he answered hoarsely before cursing once Sansa began stroking him in a firm grasp, the fingers of her other hand buried themselves in his hair at the back of his head as she kept her face pressed to the side of it.

"Good" she whispered as her movements began to make the water lap and slosh lightly against the sides of the copper tub. "No one has bested you yet have they my King"?

"No" he grunted, enjoying her strokes, keeping as still as he could, his eyes closed in pleasure. Sansa nipped at his ear before continuing to speak.

"I do believe that makes you the alpha wolf in our pack". Jon groaned and leant his head back, resting on her shoulder, his breath coming fast in and out of parted lips. "The alpha wolf has his choice of female and they mate for life - did you know that? Who will you choose Jon"?

"You" he said instantly. Panic filled his lungs when suddenly her hand left him, his head dipped backwards when her shoulder was quickly withdrawn, hurting his neck a little. He steeled himself for reprimand when he turned in the tub to face her.

"Well then" Sansa said briskly as her arms were reaching back, working something behind herself. Her dress suddenly loosened and she shrugged it to the floor leaving her completely bare - no shift, no smallclothes, no stockings. Jon's mouth was left agape. Sansa arched one perfect teasing brow "Is there room in there for your mate my King"? 

 


	32. Wash the Words Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks - this one's a bit sad :-(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another waiting room (Doc's this time) Another fic! LOL
> 
> I haven't re-read this one through yet so hopefully it's not awful!! I'll prob get round to that later :-)

_Dear Mother,_

 

_I'm not quite sure why I'm writing this as I know that you'll never read my words, and yet somehow I have the notion that you, wherever you are, would know. You would know that I think of you. You would know that I miss you and you would know that I need you._

_I'm a parent myself now mother, and I can hardly believe that I've managed it so far without you by my side. You would love him dearly, his name is Robb and he is a tiny little thing. It's strange to think that a being so small can bring such happiness and love as well as pain and worry. He has bright blue eyes and hair as black as ink. He wails loudly throughout the night. Both myself and his father get hardly a wink of sleep._

_I wish you could have been there Mother. I wish you were there throughout my worries during pregnancy. I wish you were with me when I birthed him, I wish you were there when I married for love, I wish you were there to truly know who my husband is and who I have become because of him. I wish you were there through so many trials that I had faced since leaving the North that first time all those years back. You would not believe how things have changed and yet are sometimes still the same._

_I married Jon Snow. As I write this I can picture quite clearly the look on your face - it was one you used to give when furious with Robb or Arya when they were behaving  appallingly. However, I imagine there would be a touch of sadness and hurt to your expression as well. Please do not be sorrowful or distressed at this news Mother, I married him for love, true, unequivocal love. I am beyond happy. He is everything a husband and father should be._

_Father lied to you, to us, to everyone - but perhaps you know that now? Wherever you are - whether it be in the Seven Heavens or with Father's Old Gods - I am sure that you are together. Perhaps he finally shared with you that last part of him that he hid from the world through fear and love? Please tell him that I am sorry. I am so sorry._

_I'm sure that Robb is with you also, please let him know that I forgive my big brother for promises he could not keep. Let him know that I am protected now and that his namesake will use his chambers once he's old enough to leave the nursery. I miss you Robb. We miss you, terribly._

_Tell Rickon that we miss his laugh and the way he would run here and there, never to be caught. I sometimes think that I catch glimpses of him dashing about the castle. Jon still feels somewhat at fault for what happened, no matter how many times I present the truth to him. Rickon would not hold him to any miss-placed guilt. I know it._

_Bran and Arya are with us Mother. My sister is as wild as ever but she has something dark within her since returning. Jon and I fear for her and pray daily that she will shake the shadows that reach out to her. Bran is married too. He has wed Lady Meera Reed and they are both so terribly in love it is quite lovely to see. He is secretive with us though. The thought that he might unintentionally reveal information from one of his visions weighs heavy on his head and he mostly keeps himself and his wife to the library wing._

_I don't know why I tell you all of this. Perhaps you are all watching us always anyway? Perhaps you witnessed all of our struggles and all of our triumphs? Can you perceive what we feel? If not, I feel that I have to tell you that I have an anger towards you and father. I am angry that you did not prepare me for the world as it truly is. I am angry that you allowed me to pour everything I am into tales and songs, only for me to be poured right out again. Life is not a song. I am angry that father did not trust at least you - and Jon once he came of age - to the truth. I am angry that he saw the pain his lie caused you and Jon and he never sought to rectify it. I am angry that you treated a child innocent of father's false sins as you did. I am angry at myself for modelling my childhood behaviour towards Jon upon your own._

_Yes, I am angry, but mostly I am happy. There is peace. I have family. I am home. We are safe. Jon would move heavens and earth to keep it that way._

_If you are watching over us I hope you can see all of that. I hope you enjoy seeing your grandson grow._

_Please give Lady a scratch behind her ear from me. She likes that._

_I miss you Mother._

_Sansa_

* * *

 

Sansa was not sure what she would do with the letter once she had penned it. She folded it, not re-reading it once before sealing it with wax and locked it away in a small drawer in her writing desk. 

If her mother's old Sept had been restored perhaps she may have laid it at the feet of the effigy of The Mother... or perhaps The Stranger would deliver the missive to Lady Catelyn? Sansa never felt her Mother's presence in the slightest in the Godswood, she felt sure that the weirwood tree would not whisper her words back to her mother.

It was perhaps five years after the first letter to her Mother was scribbled that The King and Queen in the North took a visit to the Riverlands, and since then three more letters had joined it - one for each of Lady Catelyn's new grandchildren.

One night, after one of the many welcome feasts that Lord Tully hosted for his royal niece and nephew-by-law, Jon accompanied Sansa in the calm of dusk down to the banks of the Red Fork river. He knew that his wife had felt the need to commit words to ink for her Lady Mother and he did not press her to divulge what they contained. Sansa holds the worn sealed parchments tight to her chest before silently dropping them, letting the waters wash them away upstream.

If Jon had anything to say to his Mother-by-law, it would be _'Thank you. Thank you for her'_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what's going on - I must be in a weird melancholy mood???


	33. Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just posted this over on tumblr and debated on whether I should post it here too as it's really more of a teaser or highlight rather than a chapter....but then I thought - why the fuck not? :-D

"I think I'm in love with Sansa" Jon blurted when he came through the door, dropping his keys in the ceramic dish designed for that very purpose.

Missandei furrowed her brow and closed the book she was reading. "Sansa?....the redhead who lives at number 14 Sansa"? Jon nodded as he shirked his leather jacket from his shoulders. "Sansa who hosts those neighbourhood BBQs once a month"?

"The very one".

"Well it's too bad you married me then" she said with an amused snort.

"Missieee"! Jon groans as he drags one hand down his face. "Can't I tell her"?

"No you bloody well can't! Sansa's Dad works for the government - if he gets wind that I married you for a Westerosi citizenship then I'll be deported and lord knows what'll happen to you"!

Jon stares at his wife's face like he was searching for a solution to his problem. "Fine"! He huffed before stalking out to the kitchen and yanking open the refrigerator with frustration. "But make sure Grey stops staying overnight so frequently - people will think you're having an affair"!

Missandei alighted the cozy cream sofa and padded over to lean her hip on the kitchen door frame as she watched Jon pop the cap off of his beer. "You know, technically speaking, I am".

He grunted into his bottle before turning a sorrowful look into his best friend "I tried not to Missie.....but when I'm with her I feel-...she's...." Jon shook his head at his own loss of words.

Missandei took one breath of resignation before speaking. "Well then" she said before swiping Jon's beer with a smile "we'll think of something Jonnyboy".


	34. Ball Buster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another little drabble that I've literally just uploaded on tumblr.
> 
> If you're on it, drop by and say hi! I'm a mod for @jonsa-creatives :-)

“Your missus just tore me a new one in there Snow” Grenn shook his head as he pushed past Jon in the small office kitchenette, bashing and crashing the cupboard doors looking for his own mug for his coffee.

  
“Oh really? Well you did fudge the numbers on that report - you are aware that percentages, as a whole, should add up to a hundred right”? Jon responded, leaning back against the countertop and taking a slurp from his cup.

  
“I honestly don’t know how you put up with her man-”

  
“Careful” Jon warned from behind his drink “that’s my girl you’re talking about”.

  
Grenn raised both hands in mock surrender and shook his head. “I just don’t get it is all. She’s a proper ball-buster and you’re….well, you’re….”

  
Jon raised one brow, urging his friend to finish his thoughts.

  
“You know what I mean”! Grenn exclaimed, exasperated at his own failings to find the right words.

  
“Are you calling me soft”? Jon teased, taking another sip of coffee.

  
“Well you are a bit mate, yeah” his friend shrugged.

  
“She can’t exactly let a bunch of slackers like you get away with not reaching company targets now can she”?

  
“Yeah, but I bet she’s no little kitten to live with either. You’ve gotta be proper pussy-whipped at ho-”

  
“So my father’s paying you two to chit chat in the kitchen these days is he”? Sansa interrupted as she appeared in the doorway of the small kitchenette with her arms crossed. She was wearing a white blouse tucked into her high waisted tight black pencil skirt with killer heels that matched her red lips.

  
"Ah, no, sorry Sansa” Grenn blushed as he practically sprinted past her to evade her stern gaze, completely forgetting about the coffee he was in the middle of making. Jon smirked and took another sip of his drink before placing the mug on the countertop and resting his hands back on it behind him.

  
“Apparently you’re a ball-buster” he said with amusement.

  
“Is that so”? Sansa replied with a purr and one raised brow. She moved closer to Jon and uncrossed her arms to wind them around his waist.

  
Jon’s only movement was to bring one finger up and tap her bottom lip. “That’s a pretty colour” he said in a low voice. “It would look even prettier staining my cock”.

  
Sansa hummed and darted her tongue out to lick at Jon’s index finger that was rested on her bottom lip before taking it into her mouth and sucking lightly.

  
“Ah ah ah….did I say you could do that”?

  
She released his finger and looked down demurely as she shook her head.

  
“Does someone need to be reminded of a few things tonight”?

  
Sansa’s breath caught in her throat, her crystal eyes met with his and her tongue ran along the red of her top lip. “Yes Daddy”.

  
Jon leant foreward and tickled the skin below Sansa’s ear with his hot breath as he spoke “Are you wearing panties today Sansa”?

  
She blushed and shook her head, her copper hair swinging from the high sleek ponytail on her head.

  
“Now you know that can’t go unpunished don’t you”? He rasped before nipping her earlobe.

  
Sansa’s lips curled into a small personal smile. “I have my cuffs in my desk drawer” she breathed, rubbing her thighs together “no one will be using meeting room 2 for the rest of the afternoon”.

  
“Good girl”.


	35. Good Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has an unusual job....and this evening that job is Jon Snow.

It was a bar again, it always is. Occasionally Sansa will get sent to a sports game or the target’s place of work but bars were standard. It was fine - she knew how to work bars. This bar was attached to a local hotel and was obviously going for the whole ‘rustic, woodsy, whisky connoisseur’ vibe. The bar itself looked to be made from thick chunks of polished aged oak, there were a few tan leather sofas hosting various plaid cushions and  a few old whisky barrels were displayed high over the bar’s optics.

Hiding in the corner, pretending to be occupied with her phone, she kept one eye on the entrance whilst scrolling through the photos from the her target’s file.

_Dark and handsome. Good, that makes it easier._

Not that her targets needed to be good looking for Sansa to flirt with them - she was a pro at that after four years in this business.

‘Wolf & Rose’ was fast becoming the top honeytrap establishment in the whole of King’s Landing and Sansa’s bank balance was constantly thanking her for taking a chance with her best friend’s crazy scheme.

Glancing up from her phone, she saw the very moment that the man from photos sprang into reality as he strolled into the bar.

_Jon Snow. Showtime._

She put away her phone and smoothed down the tight black cocktail dress that showed just a bit too much cleavage as well as featuring a long slit up the side of the skirt, showcasing an inch or two too much of her best assets.

“Is this seat free”? Sansa purred with an open smile as she already began sliding her butt onto the bar-stool next to Jon’s.

“Uh…Yeah..” her target replied, looking around at all the other empty seats around the long, L-shaped bar.

“I’m Alayne” she smiled, offering her hand in greeting.

“Jon” he responded with a hesitant, confused look painted across his brow.

“What brings you to King’s Landing Jon”? She asked, already knowing from the file that he was on a works conference trip.

Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the bartender asking for their order.

“Umm….I don’t really know” Sansa mused as her finger tapped her blood red bottom lip before she drew it into her mouth with her teeth “I don’t really know much about whisky..” she shrugged, her copper red hair falling from her bare creamy shoulders “but I like to try new things….Jon?…can you recommend anything for me”?

Sansa was good at this part - playing coy, pretending to be less than she is, giving off illusions - seeming attainable.

“Uh…the Winterfell Single Malt is good” he offered tentatively.

“Two of those please” Sansa beamed at the bartender, making the young lad blush.

After three drinks each, and copious amounts of encouragement from Sansa, Jon began to loosen up. This was a difficult case for Sansa though, her target was obviously reluctant.

More often than not, Wolf & Rose’s client’s suspicions are correct and their targets end up showing their true colours after flirty small talk, flattery, gentle touches to arms, suggestive gazes and lots of drawing attention to cleavage, lips and legs. But sometimes - _sometimes_ \- they’d stumble across some good eggs. Sansa would pity those guys - their spouse’s arranging for them to be seduced by another woman was kind of like the kiss of death for their relationship in the end. And yet, there they would be, innocently talking with her, no intention of straying with no comprehension of what was to come once the truth came out.

It was after Sansa’s third attempt to get Jon’s eyes lost in her bosom by gently brushing the curve of her exposed skin with her fingertips that she thought she may have been assigned one of those good eggs.

It wasn’t that Jon _wasn’t_ looking - he most definitely was. But as soon as he’d allowed himself to glance just a beat too long at her lips, at her chest and into her eyes he would flush the most becoming shade of red and dart his deep brown gaze away from her. He also kept twiddling with his wedding ring. That was always telling - they were on the precipice, either making a decision or trying to remind themselves of their vows.

 _Don’t draw attention to it,_ Sansa thought as her eyes bounced away from his busy fingers. That was one of the rules of honeytrapping 101 - _don’t do anything to remind them that they’re married._

“My wife would like this bar” Jon blurted randomly.

_Oh he IS a good egg. Poor guy. The cheaters never mentioned their wives._

“She would”?

“Yeah….or at least she used to like places like this” he said with the saddest smile Sansa had ever seen “before….” Jon trailed off as he swirled his fourth whisky around in the glass tumbler, the ice clinking like the assumptions in Sansa’s head.

“Before what Jon”? Sansa asked softly, placing an encouraging hand on his forearm.

Jon regarded her touch before letting out a long sigh. He met her eyes and Sansa could quite clearly see him mulling over the pros and cons of opening up to a complete stranger.

“I got a promotion about a year and a half ago” he started “and to be honest, in hindsight I wish I’d never taken it. All the extra time I was spending at the office put a lot of pressure on our relationship, you know”?

Sansa nodded with a soft smile for Jon to continue as she watched him nervously scrub at the back of his neck with one hand.

“Well, we kind of lost sight of each other and the bickering turned into bigger and bigger arguments and Ygritte-” he paused to take a deep breath “Ygritte cheated on me a while back”.

Sansa sucked in a breath. She’d not been expecting that but this revelation had made her reconsider her ‘good egg’ title she’d tagged onto Jon Snow. Sometimes, targets liked to throw excuses out into the conversation - it was a way of trying to ease their own guilt.

“I thought we were over all that” he continued “I thought I’d come to terms with it. You know - we even went to couples counselling”? Jon looked up from his drink, that sad smile returning again “but two weeks ago I found a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom trashcan”.

“Oh!…umm…congratulations”? Sansa said a little confused. Jon shook his head.

“She doesn’t know that I saw the test and she still hasn’t mentioned it… and besides-” Jon swigs the last drop of amber liquid from his glass “- we haven’t had sex in months”.

“Oh” Sansa said softly, more to herself than anyone else.

“Yeah - ‘oh’”. he parroted back at her.

This was new. If he was using the old ‘my wife is cheating so everything’s ok’ bit then this extra story about a pregnancy is wholly unnecessary.

_Unless it’s the truth._

As the job went on, it became clear that if Jon Snow was indeed a cheater, then he wasn’t the kind to do anything about it at first sight. Sansa said goodbye to her handsome suspected good egg target with a peck on the cheek and a napkin with her work phone number on it.

The company policy was to wait for 4 months to see if a target would make contact with their honeytrap girl - normally asking to meet up again or sending the odd flirty text or dick pic.

At the 3 month mark since her Jon Snow case, Sansa’s work phone received a few flustered text messages.

**Unknown Number 14:25: Hi, you might not remember me but we met at a bar in Kings Landing a while back and I just wanted to let you know that I’m getting divorced.**

**Unknown Number 14:26: It’s Jon by the way. Sorry - I should have said that before.**

**Unknown Number 14:26: In case you haven’t guessed it’s been a while since I tried to flirt with someone.**

**Unknown Number 14:26: How miserably am I failing?**


	36. A language in Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not posting this one as a separate ficlet because it's tiiiiny

He hadn't noticed it at first, too preoccupied with the way her tongue sometimes swipes slowly across her lower lip as she concentrates on her work. But, in the firelight, Jon catches a glimpse of red thread being dragged through the fabric in Sansa's embroidery hoop. A strange choice of colour, considering the Lannister connotations.

He takes a discreet closer look, giving the illusion that he's still reading through one of his many missives.

Jon is surprised to see that Sansa's dainty hands are elegantly painting a depiction of a white direwolf with the poke and pull of needle and thread. The red yarn was being used to colour the beast's eye. It was Ghost - it could be no other.

Words very almost leap from his mouth out into the warmth of Sansa's solar. Is she taking such care over a new article of clothing for him? Those words never experience their escape however, once Jon sees that the fabric Sansa is working is far too light and silky to be used for any man's attire.

No, this soft pale peach material purred luxurious femininity. And it was.....well, there wasn't much of it.

Jon sucks in a sharp breath once all the pieces of the puzzle slot into place.

_They are her undergarments._

"Jon? Are you well"? Sansa asks, tying off her last red stitch by nipping the thread artfully with her teeth.

"Ah....yes, yes....I am fine" he flusters before hastily making his leave for the night.

Over the coming moons Jon wonders - each day, he wonders - if she is wearing those silky smallclothes with a wolf as white as the snow on them.

Sansa had told him once that her clothes are something like a kin to a language silently spoken. What is she saying with those undergarments?

Somehow, he persuades himself that it is best to put it down to Sansa's love and growing bond with his wolf - for where you find one, you will normally happen upon the other.

However, once the shock of Jon's true parentage has dissipated into something close to acceptance, he spies a new pair of smallclothes in Sansa's sewing basket. The silk is deep red and striking, and the delicate black stitches look suspiciously arranged to depict dragon wings.

He's really going to have to ask her about this.


	37. One Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one added here because it's tiny :-)

_I'm awful. Terrible. The worst wife ever and a horrible human being_ , Sansa thought as she stared at her three week old baby boy.

_I have to tell him._

She drew in a breath and let it out again shakily, stilling her hands momentarily as they worked on auto pilot to pack hers and baby Neddy's things.

The front door opens and closes with a click.

"Sansa"? Calls her husband.

She closes her eyes and works on steadying her breath and heartbeat.

"In here" she sings, wincing a bit at how cheery she sounds.

_Great. I'm about to break his heart and yet I sound positively giddy. Get a grip Sansa!_

"There you are"! Harry grins before getting a look at what she's doing, his face falls before he recovers himself with a forced cough "uh, Sansa? What's happened? Why are you packing"?

Sansa sighs before turning to face him. "Do you remember last year...when..." she sucks in a breath and hopes she inhales some courage along with it "..when I accused you of having a thing with your secretary"?

"Sansa" Harry groans "I thought we'd cleared that all up babe"? He moved closer and places his hands on her upper arms "That silly little girl had a crush on me, remember? It was all in her head...she was coo-coo".

"Yes" Sansa numbly nods along "but that's not what I'm talking about". Sudden flashes of memories of how she'd printed out Myranda's confessional email and rather dramatically left her wedding ring on top of it before leaving their house to go to her business conference.

"It's not"? His arms drop as does his gaze. "Has someone said something to you"? He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes together.

_What is he going on about?_

"Because I've told you before" Harry states, turning to walk away from her and waving his hand in the air dismissively "people in this little town like to talk. And when there's nothing to talk about, they make shit up".

It's as he turns she sees it. It's startlingly pink, the brightest pink you could imagine - even Barbie would blanch at this pink. Sansa would never wear that shade of lipstick. And yet there it was, smudged below her husband's earlobe. Mocking her and yet somehow making what she's about to say a fraction easier.

_Two wrongs don't make a right Sansa._

"Ned's not your son" she blurts. She had planned on easing into her confession but that particular shade of pink was winking at her, egging her on.

Harry stills, blinking back at her until her words sink in. A look of rage passes over him as he works to control his breathing.

"Who"?

_This is rich._

"Does it matter"?

"Who the fuck was it Sansa"?! He bellows, nostrils flaring.

"A one night stand I had at the Winterfell Conference" she says with a sigh, rubbing her forehead and glancing at the dark haired baby sleeping soundly in his crib. Sansa smiles to herself. Her finger had hovered over that Facebook friend request to Jon Snow too many times to count.

 _I'll pull that particular trigger as soon as Neddy and I are out of here_.

** 9 MONTHS AND THREE WEEKS EARLIER (text messages) **

**Theon** : Where are you man?

 **Jon** : On my way to Wintertown Hotel

 **Theon** : ?

 **Jon** : Alayne left a note before she left this morning, it was on the back of their business card.

 **Theon** : Alright Miss Marple! Lol Alayne? Is that the foxy piece I saw you dancing with at the club? You get lucky?

 **Jon** : Yeah, she was at the club

 **Theon** : ...and?...

 **Jon** : And a gentleman never tells.

 **Theon** : That's a yes. Nice. She must have been a go-er in the sack if you're trying to hunt her down for more the very next morning!  ;-)

 **Jon** : You're incorrigible, you know that?

 **Jon** : But yeah, I might be in deep with this one.

 

 


	38. A fine thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on a project with some other authors and I'm a bit stuck on my chapter - so in a bid to get over my writers block...here.... have this little bit of fluff.....

_Bigger. They’re definitely getting bigger_. Sansa said something about increasing milk flow and has also started to forego wearing a bra too. That really wasn’t helping Jon’s  _‘be cool around Sansa_ ’ efforts.

“Urgh! I feel like a whale” she groaned whilst trying to alight the low sofa.

“No you don’t” he protested quickly, earning a few looks from Robb, Arya and Rickon, and a smile from Sansa. “I think you look pretty” he added in a quiet voice as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to avoid the sets of eyes on him at that precise moment. Thankfully they fell back into a chatter amongst themselves.

“Thank you Jon, oh!” her hand flew to her rounded belly.

“Are you alright?” Jon flew to his feet, concern etched upon his face.

“Yeah” she waved away his worry “she’s kicking. Here-” Sansa grabs Jon’s hand and presses it to her hard, warm stomach. Jon grinned back up at Sansa when they both felt the squirm of her baby beneath both their hands. her smile falters and jon wants to try and scramble to get it back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing” she sniffs. 

“It’s clearly something” he says, forgetting about the other Starks in the room as he ducks his head to meet her eyes and lays what he hopes is comforting hand on her upper arm.

“It’s.....It’s just....” Sansa throws her arms up in the air in exasperation “why did I have to be so stupid and get knocked up by  _Harry_  of all people?!  _He_  should be the one here feeling the baby kick!  _He_  should be the one telling me I don’t resemble a huge aquatic mass of blubber! But he’s not - he’s gone swanning off on his  _‘gap year’_  to  _‘find himself_ ’.... and I tell you what kind of  _‘finding himself_ ’ he’ll be doing - he’s _finding himself_  between the legs of any girl who’ll have him!” 

She looks on the verge of tears and Jon can’t help but scoop her up and hold her as tight before he realises that her bump is most certainly getting squashed between them.

“Sorry” he mumbles before releasing her quickly, making her giggle through her watery eyes.

“It’s alright Jon” she smiles “gods! If this had to happen, then why’d it have to be with  _him?_ ” she says, rubbing her belly. “You’d never leave a girl alone in this situation” she whispers, eyes downcast.”Why couldn’t I get knocked up by a guy like you?”

_The chance would be a fine thing._

Sansa’s head snaps up instantly and Jon suddenly realises that the other Starks have stopped talking amongst themselves. He stares, horrified into the blue eyes searching his face.

“I said that out loud didn’t I?” he gulps. Sansa nods, a smirk creeping onto her lips.

Rickon springs to his feet and starts loudly chanting as he’s skipping around Jon and Sansa “Jon wants to fuck San-sa! Jon wants to fuck San-sa!”

“I don’t!” he responds, trying to grab Rickon and missing as he makes his circuits around them.

“You don’t?” Sansa asks, a little amused.

“No, I mean, I do... no, wait-” Jon stutters, his face positively scarlet red.

“You have been staring at her tits for weeks now” Arya adds, rather nonchalantly.

“I haven’t!” Jon protests.

“You have!” Robb, Arya and Rickon all sing in chorus.

Sansa bites her lip in an effort to hold back her laughter “yeah, you really have - even I noticed that.”

“Shit.”

_So much for my ‘be cool around Sansa’ plans._


	39. Liar liar, pants on fire!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and keep this ficlet collection purely for tiny little drabbles like this wee thing.... longer one shots will be posted separately.
> 
>  
> 
> Also - anyone seen our fic numbers lately?! They're insane! WELL DONE US!!

"Urrrgh! No! Not you!" Sansa groaned as she leant forward dejectedly, letting her forehead touch the sticky pub table.

"Charming! Nice to see you too Stark!" Jon responds with a chuckle before surveying the vast amount of empty shot glasses in front of the tipsy redhead.

Sansa grunted and blindly waved a hand in the air dismissively . "It'sss all your fault anyway" she hiccuped. Jon frowned.

"What's my fault?"

She let out a long huff of air before slurring out a jumble of words into the dark wood of the table her head was still pressed against "me an'...whassssisface have _hic_...um...broken up...or something." 

"Broken up?" He repeats, trying not to sound too happy about it. "You've broken up with Harry?"

"Yep" she slurs, letting her lips pop around the 'p' as she raises her head from the table to look at him.

"Sorry Sans" Jon offers, with a small smile and a gentle pat to her shoulder. Sansa shrugs.

"It was never gonna last anyway.

Jon ruminates on that thought for a while before interrupting Sansa's drink induced hazy stare into oblivion. "So how come it's 'all my fault' then?"

Sansa laughs mirthlessly and flops her head onto his shoulder. "Because Harry accused me of being _hic_ in love with you" she yawns. Jon stiffens, his pulse begins to pound in his ears.

".....And.....and what did you say?" 

Jon gulps, awaiting her answer. The weight of her against him seems to increase as she gives a sleepy mumble. "San?" He asks, jostling his shoulder slightly to wake her and get that important answer. The movement causes her head to slide down his chest and onto his lap. Sansa blinks up at him sleepily.

"Hi Jon-Jon-Jonny-boy" she grins, reaching him up to boop him on the nose.

Jon can't help but smile down at her. "Hi Sans" he clears his throat "so, um...Harry accused you of being in love with me and you said-?"

"I told him that I wasn't" she shrugged and Jon felt a keen ache start to gnaw a hole in the pit of his stomach. "But... _hic_...it turnsssout I'm no good at lying" she sighs with her eyes closed and her face nuzzling into his thigh.


	40. Princess Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just posted this on Tumblr (I'm a mod for @jonsa-creatives - please pop along and say hi!)
> 
> Here's the post if you care to take a look - there's a wee photo set to go with it...  
> https://amymel86.tumblr.com/post/164232205974/jonsa-creatives-wedding-night-prince-jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little scene is tiny - but this collection will be where I post all my teeny tiny drabbles from now on - longer works will get their own post to boost the numbers :-)

Princess - she was a Princess now, Sansa thought as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother normally brushed out her hair at night, counting the passing of the bristles each time as they glide through the silky auburn river. Sansa had lost count of her brushstrokes, or she hadn’t even started - she wasn’t sure. She was too lost in the act of staring at the image of Princess Sansa Targaryen - a maid wedded and not yet bedded.

Her hands trembled like the rustling of leaves in a breeze as she set the boar-bristle brush down upon her vanity. Her mother had warned her this morning as she was twisting pins of pearls into her braids to expect some pain, but if her husband is good to her, the discomfort will not be the lasting memory of this night. She so dearly hoped that Jon would be good to her.

Sansa closed her eyes, shutting off all distractions apart from the pop and crackle of the fire in the hearth. She focused on her deep intakes of air and her slow releasing breaths until her heart seemed to give up its quest to break free from the cage of her ribs.

However, the loud clunk of the door being barred behind her reignited the galloping in her chest.

“I’ll not touch you if you don’t want me to” her new husband rasped, his voice cracking like delicate eggshells.

Sansa wasn’t quite sure _what_ she wanted. She stayed seated and watched him behind her in the mirror.

“If you want to-” Jon’s eyes flitted to the large bed and then returned to the back of Sansa’s head “or if not, we can just sleep…..whatever you want…we’ll do whatever you want.”

Sansa rose from her stuffed stool and turned to face her husband. Twisting her hands together was not helping at all but she couldn’t seem to stop - that is, until she noticed the way Jon struggled not to draw attention with his storm grey eyes to her exposed calves and the low neckline of her shift. Something warm bloomed from within. She is a woman now, she is a wife - a wanted one if Jon’s laboured rising and falling chest was any indication. Her fidgeting suddenly became manageable. She straightened her spine and wet her lips.

“I want you to be good to me, Jon.” 


	41. Westworld au conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just tiny bit of dialogue only from a westworld jonsa au

“And what’s the nature of the malfunction?”

  
“These two hosts, no matter what narrative we give them, no matter what obstacles we introduce, they always pair off. They always end up together.”

  
“And that’s an issue because?”

  
“Not an issue per se, but the amount of fistfights this one has had over her? Shit. He was down in repairs every single fucking day when we put her to work in the whorehouse - and he was meant to stay way out in section 3 at the farm too. Somehow, he always came to town, straight to the Saloon - even when we dictated he do something else. He always found his way to her.”

  
“It says here in Sansa’s file that their original narrative was a love story. Jon here is meant to present a challenge to guests who want to have their own way with his wife.”

  
“That should have been wiped when they were reassigned.”  
“It has been.”

  
“Do you want to know what else is strange? They found these two holed up in a shack right up on the outer edge of the park. This son-of-a-bitch dug a fucking bunker beneath it.”

  
“So?”

  
“So it was like they were hiding…like they knew we’d look for them.”


	42. Musty pages and photocopies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just teeny tiny thing I posted with an aesthetic on tumblr

**~Jon~**  
Jon makes his way to the familiar rich wooden study desk that Sansa Stark makes sure to reserve every Wednesday evening. He thinks that perhaps she's territorial about that particular one because of its proximity to both the 'Classical Romance' section and the coffee machine. It's secluded enough that you're not likely to be bothered but not too far into the labyrinth of aisles that you may missed by the final sweep of the librarians as the close the old building for the night (there have been stories).

His heart begins to thunder when his feet follow the now well-known path, but it's when he turns the final corner and sees that she's there already - 20 minutes early, that it feels like his heart is trying to escape the confines of his chest.

_Early. She's never early._

He backs away, retreating to the safety of one of the non fiction aisles, cursing under his breath as he scrunches up the photocopy in his hand.

 **~Sansa~**  
_Weeks!_ It had been weeks since this strange little dance had started.

It had all began on her third Wednesday that Sansa had  reserved her preferred study area. A single innocuous looking sheet of copy paper was patiently waiting for her upon the old dark wooden desk.

The paper was a photocopy of a book page from 'Cyrano de Bergerac' with a passage underlined -

_"She is a mortal danger to all men. She is beautiful without knowing it, and possesses charms that she's not even aware of. She is like a trap set by nature - a sweet perfumed rose in whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush! Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as my Lady when she strides through Paris!"_

' _Paris_ ' had been scratched out and in its place was the suggested words 'Winterfell University Library' written in black pen.

Sansa had looked around for anyone who might have left the quote, but finding that it was quite clearly lacking an owner, she smiled to herself as the piece of paper was slipped between the pages of her ruled notebook - a happy little stray that she decided to claim for her own.

But then, came more - each week, a new photocopy, a new quote, sometimes funny, sometimes romantic. Sometimes classic, sometimes modern - and even one time, a copy from what looked to be an ancient anatomy book, the page of which seemed to be describing the effects of excitement upon the human heart, complete with vintage diagrams.

It didn't take long for Sansa to start believing that they had purposefully been laid out for her, and her alone.

But today - today she had planned on leaving her own photocopied quote for this strange secret admirer of hers - this mysterious person who manages to always find passages that move her, speak to her or make her laugh. Her notebook was rapidly filling up with these specially chosen words.

Sansa frowned down at the unusually empty wood of her usual desk.

 _It's because I'm early,_ she mused as she set to work trying to find the perfect quote.

Sansa was near building a fort of books with the way she'd stacked them high on her desk. She was just changing her mind yet again on whether the words she'd found were far too romantic, when a familiar mop of inky curls walked by.

 _Jon Snow. God!_ He looks even more handsome than normal with his glasses on and his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Sansa lets out an almost desperate sigh as she watched his retreating form.

_Back to the task at hand Sansa! Just because you go to the same University now, does not mean he's stopped seeing you as anything but his best friend's little sister!_

Locking all thoughts and past pining for Jon Snow away in an imaginary box, Sansa continued to flick through the yellowing pages of an aged copy of Wuthering Heights.

 


	43. Means to an end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just me messing around with the whole 'undercover lover jon' theory....

“Snow” Tyrion acknowledged as he stood at Jon’s cabin door, before stepping inside without pause or invitation. Jon sighed and latched the door once more before turning and gesturing with a nod of his head towards his pitcher of ale.

“No wine? I always find that a glass of-”

“It is late. What do you want, Lord Tyrion?” Jon interupted, coming to sit at one of the chairs by the writing desk. The chair creaked under his weary weight.

The Lannister Lord smiled and nodded to himself - Northerners do not mince their words and it seems part of him is glad of that. The ship rocked as he hopped up onto the remaining chair. Tyrion watched his own fingers tap at the wooden writing desk before he sucked in a breath. “I need to ask something of you, Jon” he said, moving his gaze to the dark haired Northman.

“What is it?”

“It’s…….a delicate matter.”

“And I’m the one to help you with this ’delicate matter’?”

“Quite” Tyrion finished his tapping on the desk with a final slap of his palm before jumping down from his seat. He wandered over to the pitcher of mead he had previously turned his nose up at and continued to pour some into a pewter cup. The ship lurched and creaked, but he managed not to spill a single drop.

“In fact, I think you’re the only one who can help” he said with his back to Jon before downing his drink and pouring another. The imp turned to face him now, and the way his eyes searched Jon’s made him sit up a little straighter. The air was thick with a humourless taste as Tyrion breathed heavily out of his nose. “Jon” he started, his eyes darting away before he could muster the rest of his words - but muster he did. “Daenerys has grown…fond of you.”

Jon’s jaw clenched a fraction as he silently urged the imp to continue.

“Might I suggest….nurturing that fondness?”

Jon Snow furrowed his brow and allowed his visitor to elaborate.

“The Queen…she…well, she suffers impulses that perhaps she ought not to, you see…and whilst in the past, Daenerys listened to reason…’reason’ is beginning to fall upon deaf ears” he explained, finishing with a swig from his cup.

“Your ’reason’, you mean?”

The Lannister Lord gave an answering sad smile and a soft snort whilst he contemplated the bottom of his cup. “The Queen needs guidance. She needs someone to keep her both focussed and aware of the bigger picture. She needs someone-”

“Like a Hand?”

Tyrion tugged at he bottom of his jerkin and rolled his neck. “Like a Consort.”

Jon scrunched his nose, turning away to focus on his cabin wall. “I’m not marrying your Queen.”

“She’s your Queen now, remember?”

“Aye.” Jon said, rising from his chair and indicating to the large carved three headed dragon on the headboard of his bed. “How can I forget?”

“She loves you” Tyrion blurted. “Or at least, she’s falling in love with you” he said, returning to the pitcher and refilling his cup, pouring one for Jon too.

“That is not my concern” Jon replied, taking the mead and draining the liquid in three straight gulps.

“That might well be….Your concern is your family, your home, the North, the realm” the imp paused before taking a sip. “Cersei won’t be sending her armies North. I know it” he said, keeping his gaze ahead of him.

Jon heaved a resigned sigh. “Aye. I thought as much.” Tyrion’s head snapped in his direction. “You knew?”

Jon shrugged and turned to fill his cup. “Sansa explained all about your sister my Lord.”

“So why did you come to King’s Landing? Why bother risking your life beyond The Wall for that matter?”

“I need Daenerys’ help” Jon turned to look Tyrion in the eye “I need her dragons….We all do” he said, gulping his drink.

The imp nodded thoughtfully as he swayed slightly with the ship’s movements. “And you bending the knee?”

“I need her to save my people.”

“So you made them her people” Tyrion commented, catching on to the thought. “The Northerners won’t accept her…at least not right away anyway.”

“Aye.”

Tyrion raised his brows, urging Jon to divulge any further thoughts on the subject.

Jon let out a long exhale before turning and placing his pewter cup back down next to the pitcher. “They’ll come to see her for what she is.”

“I see,…….and…..what is she exactly?”

Jon’s mouth twitches upwards in one corner. “A means to an end…..our best chance at survival.”

“How romantic” Tyrion replied, complete with a sarcastic snort.

“There’s no time for any of that.”

Tyrion stared into the bottom of his cup again before talking. “What if it were ‘a means to an end?”

Jon shook his head “I’m not marrying Daenerys Targeryen. I’ve bent the knee. What more can she want from me?”

“Your love?” Jon snorted and looked away. “Fine. Perhaps not your love. There are plenty of marriages built upon less.”

“I have already declared for her and given up my title. My people’s freedom. What more would she gain from this?”

“Someone to keep her grounded. To keep her rule true. You care about the people more than you care about a crown. She does too-” Tyrion paused as he watched Jon roll his eyes “She does!”

Jon raises a questioning eyebrow at his friend.

“She did" Tyrion conceded "…..she will again…” the imp stuttered “She just needs someone to steer her in the right direction. She listens to you” he implored.

Jon’s jaw turned to stone. “I’ll not marry her.”

Tyrion nodded slowly, the cogs in his head wiring, clicking a new plan into place and trying to configure the best way in which to set it out. “Alright. Not a consort then,….what about…a lover?”

“You want me to fuck your Queen so that-”

“Your Queen”

Jon’s nostrils flaired. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hanging his head before continuing in a defeated tone. “You want me to do this so that she’ll listen to you through me?”

“I want you to do this so that we can defeat the dead.”

Jon stared at Tyrion for a long while before the imp broke the silence with a plea in his voice. “Cersei will not send her armies. When the absence of the Lannister forces are clear and apparent to our Queen, Daenerys will be tempted to turn her dragons to the South and not where you need them.”

Jon took in a sharp breath through his nose and scrubbed a hand down his face. “She listens to you” Tyrion continued, gesturing with an upward palm towards Jon “she’s already emotionally involved with you….just….foster that emotion…use it to keep her on the right path.”

“I thought you wanted to see her on the Iron Throne? To overthrow your sister?”

“I do…..but there’s no point helping her to get there if all she’ll rule over is corpses and ash.”

“I’ll not get any bastards on her” Jon argued after a time.

“She is barren.”

“So says a witch” Jon huffed.

“Daenerys had a lover in Meereen for quite some time…with no issue.”

Jon stared at his late night visitor for a long while before closing his eyes and letting out a sigh as he nodded his head in defeat.

 

 

 

 

Bran’s milk white unseeing, and yet seeing, eyes suddenly returned to normal causing Sansa to gasp. It had seemed like such a long time that she had been sitting there, watching his unmoving frame.

“Did you see Jon?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He is well. He is on his way to us, just as his raven said."

“With Daenerys Targaryen?”

"Yes. And her dragons.”

Sansa took a deep breath before asking her puzzlingly urgent question. “Are they…does he…does he love her?” she blurted.

Bran turned his neck to look at her. Sansa blinked at her brother as she worried her lip with her teeth.

“No. He does not love her. He is playing a dangerous game though….Why do you ask?”

Sansa let out a breath and a prayer that she had not realised she was holding on to. “No reason Bran. Thank you for checking on him for me. Good night brother” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it with gratitude before she hurriedly left Bran’s room for the night.


	44. Real Housewives of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is married to Harry and is a cast member of Real Housewives of Winterfell. Jon is a cameraman. I am trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks about my WIPs - I'm on it!! I'm on it!! Next week! Next week!! :D

He hadn't meant for his question to cause her eyes to go glassy with tears and her painted lips to quiver ever so slightly - something Jon would have missed if he were a less observant man.

"Do you need a break, Sansa?" Jon asked in the softest tone manageable, earning him a glare from Thorne, the set co-ordinator.

 _Fuck him. She's upset_.

"No, no, I'm fine" she said, sniffing and pointing her face to the high ceiling, as if that would encourage her tears to retreat. "Again" Sansa requested, shaking her shoulders and clearing her throat.

"Alright" Jon nodded with a small smile, returning to his position behind his equipment, his camera pointing at his favourite cast member sat in her 'piece to camera' chair. "Can you tell me more about what happened at the pool party, Sansa? Please" he added.

Jon watched down the lens as the gorgeous creature that is Sansa Hardyng took a long inhale. "Well -" she started before pausing to shake her head at herself "whilst I was with Margaery and Talisa in the hot tub, apparently, my husband was enjoying himself with...with Cersei Baratheon in the pool house."

"Do you think it's true?"

Sansa shrugged in a way that screamed that she did. She swallowed thickly and glanced down at her fidgeting fingers in her lap.

"I'm sorry, I can't-" she whispered hoarsely before bolting from her chair and making for her huge closet.

"Oh for fuck sake!" Thorne called after her. Jon ignored him and followed after the upset redhead into the room that was bigger than his whole apartment. He found her sat on the floor, hugging her knees with her back resting against her large floor-to-ceiling mirror. Jon walked over and sat next to her.

"If you ask me, your husband's a dick" he offered. Sansa snorted softly but remained quiet for a time.

"It was all his idea" she near enough whispered finally.

"What was?"

"For him to have an affair.... he suggested it" she explained. "Harry said that our storylines on the show were getting boring because I didn't really have any arguments with the other women anymore...so he suggested that he and Cersei..." she trailed off.

"And you were happy with that?"

"No" Sansa replied as she started taking out her large expensive earrings and throwing them to the carpet with an elegant tinkling noise. "No, I wasn't. I told him that our lives shouldn't be governed by this damned show, but he didn't listen. He never does." Her bangles and bracelets joined the earrings on the floor. "He just wanted to make sure that we'd be interesting enough to be signed for next season" she spat. "You're right, Jon, he IS a dick" she started tanking off her rings one by one "a limp one with saggy balls that...leans...to the...left" Sansa huffed whilst struggling with removing a particularly large glitzy ring. She gave up and cradled her face in her hands before peeking out of them at Jon. "No offence if yours leans to the left, Jon."

Jon chuckled "oh no worries there, I'm a righty" he beamed. And for the first time since the very early days of filming The Real Housewives of Winterfell, Jon witnessed Sansa's radiant true smile. He so dearly wished that he could capture it on film more often - not to be projected out to the world on tv screens, but for him, privately, to watch over and over again. Sure - he'd prefer the real thing in full HD, but the fact of the matter was that Sansa was married to Harry, even if he is a dick.

"I can't live like this anymore" she suddenly whined, letting her head fall back against the glass mirror. "I'm....we're....I can't be 'Mrs Hardyng' anymore. I was ready to call it a day over a year ago, he promised he'd change, and then we got this Housewives gig and....and I just got swept up in it all!"

"Hey" Jon said softly, placing his his hand over hers where it rested on the floor between them. Sansa glanced down at the contact and then back up at Jon, her eyes wide and her breath caught in her throat. "It's alright...it's gonna be alright" he whispered in what he hoped was a reassuring tone as his thumb swiped across her knuckles. Sansa glanced at his mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you're a strong woman" he rasped back "because you're better than him, you're better than most of these people" Jon affirmed, his eyes now locked on the cherry pink of her lips.

Sansa leaned in a fraction "you don't know that, Jon."

"I do" he heard himself say as he felt himself being pulled towards her like a magnet.

Twenty minutes later, Jon and Sansa were reminded that her huge closet did not have a lock on the inside, as Harry Hardyng came striding in to find his wife with her legs wrapped around another man as he fucked her into the expensive plush white carpet.

To their surprise, Harry only laughed and rubbed his hands together.

"This story will be great for ratings! Me fucking Cersei, and you letting..." he waved his hand in Jon's direction as he stood there panting from his sexual exertion, not quite believing what he was hearing "...this happen" Harry finished.

That was the day Jon lost his job for punching a cast member so hard he lost some three teeth. It was also the day that Westerosi tv lost one of its favourite 'Real Housewives' - because she went home with Jon and never looked back.


	45. Donor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you follow @jonsa-creatives on tumblr, then you may have seen this before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going through a few things and this one reminded me of a story that I should probably NOT expand on because i have far too many WIPS but....you know.....

[ ](https://jonsa-creatives.tumblr.com/image/160548261293)

 

“Oh, no, Cat doesn’t have a Dad…..that is….we don’t know who he is…she was a donor baby” Sansa explains, looking a little abashed but also like she was challenging Jon to question her life choices with regard to her daughter. She’s probably faced many a person who had an opinion on those choices.

“Oh right” he replied, his pulse dancing a bit more frantically as he remembered that one day a few years ago - clinical smell, a selection of a certain type of film to choose from, a small room and a sample pot.

“Do you want a cookie Mr Jon”? The little girl said as she tugged at his sweater sleeve.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plus - THAT KID IS THE PERFECT JONSA KID!!!!


	46. Downton Abbey-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well now I've figured out that I can add pic sets and the like, there's no frickin' stopping me is there? (sorry)

[ ](https://jonsa-creatives.tumblr.com/image/160546023683)

 

“Don’t do this Jon! You can’t just kiss me”! Sansa shrieked over the downpour of fat raindrops hitting the gravel. “It’s not fair” she added in a soft voice, her sky blue eyes pleading with him as he took a tentative step forward.

“But I love you Sansa…and….and I think you love me too”.

“And yet it is all for nought” she laughed mirthlessly “don’t you see? I must marry Lord Baelish else my father should lose everything, Winterfell Estate, our good name….everything! We are not youngsters stealing kisses in the library any more Jon, we cannot just do as we wish”!

Jon watched as Sansa panted and shivered. Her hair was wet and plastered down her long creamy neck. Her sodden dress began to cling to her body as she had fled the manor house with such haste, not stopping to cloak herself for the weather. One drop of rainwater fell from her nose.

“And what is it that you would wish for Sansa? Tell me. Tell me, and I shall do everything in my power to make it a reality”.

Sansa’s eyes dropped to Jon’s lips. 

 


	47. I can be a gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't.

[ ](https://jonsa-creatives.tumblr.com/image/160726028338)

 

_I can be a gentleman. I can be a gentleman. I can be a gentleman._

Jon chanted the words in his head like a prayer. As if repeating them to himself made them truthful.

He’d come to realise that he had made a cacophony of mistakes today.

His first folly was to let Ghost play in the garden, forgetting that the water sprinklers were due to come on.

His second was allowing Sansa to help him try to wrangle the drenched pup back inside.

And now, as Jon’s eyes flitted down to the now sodden transparent fabric of her top, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he was smacked in the face with his third mistake - believing that he could indeed be a gentleman.

 


	48. Rice Dramatically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to those who don't frequent tumblr - this most likely wont make sense!
> 
>  
> 
> #dramatic rice

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can’t get too upset about fictional characters, Sans! It’s pointless!” Jon advised as he delved into the bag of Chinese take out, waving a carton of  **rice dramatically**  in the air.

“Hmmm?”

Jon took a long look at his girlfriend, her slender legs tucked up under herself as she sat on the sofa, wearing hardly anything but his old university hoodie as she frantically tapped away on her laptop.

“What?!” Sansa finally asked once she realised he was watching her.

Jon shook his head. He loved that she got passionate about things - things like the historical fantasy drama they’d started watching together.

Sansa went back to her tapping as Jon continued to unpack their food. He didn’t really understand why she had gotten caught up in a ‘ship’ (whatever the  _fuck_  that was). Apparently, the author of the novel series the show was based on had refuted claims that two of his characters would enter a relationship together - and this was supposedly a big deal.

“This interview  _has_  to be fake” Sansa mutters to herself “Naerys and Aemon are meant for each other!” Jon smiles as her copper messy bun wobbles when she shakes her head at her laptop screen.

“Sweet and sour or black bean?”

“Hmmm?”

Jon sighs, knowing he won’t get her full attention until she’d scoured the whole of the Internet, trying to figure out if the article was authentic or not. “I said do you want swee-“

“A-HA!!!!! ITS BEEN DEBUNKED!!!” Sansa yells “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!! All those amazing Naemon metas can’t be wrong!” She clapped happily.

“What the fuck’s a meta?” Jon mumbled as he chewed on a spring roll.


	50. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all my fellow jonsa shippers! I hope 2018 is good to you!

“I know what your New Year’s resolution should be” Robb decides with a nod into his swing of beer.

“Oh yeah?” Jon responds automatically, his eyes following Sansa as she chit-chats and laughs with other party goers at the other end of the room. “What’s that then?” He finishes, taking a pull from his own bottle and not bothering to turn to look at his friend.

“Either ask her out or stop eye-fucking her every chance you get.”

Jon chokes on his drink, some of it spraying out onto his shirt. “Wha…umm…what do you mean? Ask _who_ out?” He splutters, wiping remnants of spilt drink from his beard as he finally tears his eyes away from Sansa.

“You know who I mean” Robb responds with a smirk that turned serious. “But I’m telling you right now, Snow - you’d better be good to her.”

“I will…I mean, I _would_ , but-“ Jon stutters before the crowd start to count down till midnight.

_10! 9! 8!_

Couples begin finding each other to chant the last seconds of 2017 away together and start the new year with a kiss and a promise of what’s ahead.

_7! 6!_

“Now’s your chance! Go!” Robb nudges him forcefully towards the crowd where Sansa shouts away the horrors of the past year.

_5! 4!_

“GO!” Robb demands with a tilt of his head towards his sister. Jon stumbles forward with a pulse racing like hummingbird wings.

_3!_

He reaches her as she turns to him, her smile infectious as it wraps around the numbers she says goodbye to.

_2!_

Jon reaches for her waist, his breath not daring to leave his throat. Sansas eyes widen a little before they settle on his lips. He leans in, his heart soaring when he notices that she does too.

_1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

_********_

“Alright! Will you two knock it off?!” Robb grumbles as he’s helping to clear away the detritus from their New Years party. “We’re all happy for you and stuff but can you put each other down for say, I don’t know, five minutes to help me clear up?”

Sansa entangles herself from Jon where they had been wrapped up in each other on the sofa. “Sorry” she pants through kiss swollen lips. “It’s just, I’ve got a good feeling about this year” she grins at Jon who beams a little dazedly back at her.

Jon manages to clear away a total of 3 glasses before she wraps herself around him again and whispers something in his ear.

“Hey! Where are you two going?!” Robb calls out as Sansa’s tugging Jon out the door.

“Sorry!” Jon responds with a smirk “my new girlfriend wants to ring in the new year at her place sooo…”

The door slams but Robb can still hear them giggle their way up the front garden path. Leaving him there in an empty room with a trash bag in hand.

“What have I done?”

 


	51. Jon Snow and Other Wildlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For jonxsansafanfiction’s 12 days of shipping.
> 
> High School au drabble

Theon clears his throat and puts on his best ‘David Attenborough’ voice, “and here we witness the lesser spotted ‘broody fuck’ approach a gaggle of females...”

Robb snickers at his commentary as they both watch Jon hesitantly wander over to the large group of girls gathered by the lockers.

“This particular male has prepared in advance, “ Theon continued, taking note that Jon had scraped back his unruly hair into a bun and donned a t-shirt that wasn’t black. “He’s preened his plumage and shed his dull winter colours in an effort to attract a partner for the upcoming mating season” he murmured to his friend.

Robb guffawed as he leant against his own locker and watched Jon tentatively start up a conversation with the girls. _Poor sod_ , he thought, knowing full well what his friend was like at talking to the opposite sex. Quite frankly, he’s amazed that the guy even mustered up the courage to approach a large group of girls like he had, but he mentioned liking someone lately and being worried that some other guy would ask her to the upcoming dance. “ _Just ask her out before anyone else gets a chance,_ ” Robb had advised. He supposed that’s what Jon is up to now.

“Contact has been made,” Theon continues with his documentary style commentary, “and the male seems to have been accepted by the group.”

Jon stands talking amongst the girls. He looks a bit fidgety and Robb wonders if he’s managed to cock things up yet.

“The females continue to size up our brave male to determine whether he is of strong enough breeding stock.”

“Gross, Greyjoy.”

Theon chuckles but presses on with his narration of the scene before them. “Puffing out his chest, the   
male attempts a tried and tested mating call, causing the titter of females to respond with a raucous giggling noise.”

Robb wonders which of Jon’s terrible jokes the girls were humouring him with with their laughter.

“As the group disperses, it becomes clear that our male has chosen his mate.”

“What the-?” Robb exclaims as Jon shifts and he sees exactly who it is he’s still talking to. “Nah, it’s just Sans. She’s probably boring him with talk of whatever god-awful novel she’s reading.”

Robb continues to watch the interaction unfold and an uneasy realisation seeps into his gut.

Theon leans over and whispers “here we see the female encourage our plucky male with gentle touches and a display of smiling and hair fussing, both common occurrences in the mating dance of this species.”

“Shut up Greyjoy!”

“He makes an offering,” Theon notes as Jon pulls a single blue winter rose from his school bag and sheepishly hands it to Sansa. “The action seems to have pleased his chosen mate and cements the beginning of the courtship ritual.”

“Did he just-?” Robb gapes. He watches open mouthed as Sansa blushes and kisses Jon on the cheek, “Did she just-?”

“The deal is done. Against all odds our brave young ‘broody fuck’ has secured himself an attractive mate.”

Robb is dumbstruck when Sansa beams at Jon, taking a hold of his hand with their fingers interlaced before they walk off together in the direction of the library.

“All that must be done now,” Theon continues in his Attenborough voice, “is for our unlikely Casanova to escort his new mate to an area of seclusion and complete the claiming of his female with a ritual of sucking face and getting his hand up her - OW!...chill out Stark, I’m only messin’ with ya!” Theon chuckles as he rubs at his arm where Robb has thumped him.

“Not funny!” Robb hisses before stalking off in a huff.


	52. College Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short thing I wrote purely because I felt the need to write something but was struggling with the WIP I'm working on (The Gift).
> 
> This is probably a lot more angsty than my usual stuff fyi....

Jon’s eyes dropped to Sansa’s feet as he nodded numbly. Of course - _of course_ \- Sansa- _fucking_ -Stark wouldn’t accept his offer of a date. Who is he to think that she would even consider him? She dates guys like Hardyng and Baratheon - the kind of idiots that think nothing about dropping a hundred dragon bill on a single bottle of champagne. What could she possibly see in Jon Snow? He has nothing to offer her.

Never-the-less, his brows furrow at the echo of her phrasing said refusal -  _“you don’t want to date me, Jon.”_ He frowns, trying to figure out if it’s just another translation of  _‘it’s not you, it’s me’_  and failing at coming to a conclusion.

He shifts his gaze back up again to her face. She’s avoiding meeting his eyes and he watches as she swallows down something uncomfortable. When she does look up at him, the sight makes his stomach swoop violently like the dip of a vicious roller-coaster.  _She’s trying not to cry._

Jon makes to move closer, desperate to comfort her even though he’s the one at the sharp end of her rejection. But something _-something-_ about that look in her eye tells him this isn’t like that time she cried in front of him in frustration at failing her driving test. He stops short of gathering her up in his arms and holding her tight, opting instead to squeeze her arm in what he hopes is a comforting manner. He glances that way and this. The college library is no place to break down in tears what with students milling about, so he tugs her over to a currently vacant private study room.

Sansa lets out one solitary sob as Jon clicks the door closed and it’s then that he does indeed gather her up in his arms, holding her tight and stroking her hair as he shushes away her silent tears. She’s shaking now, coming undone in his embrace. And for a split second or two Jon wonders if his mere question of asking her out - the question that he’d been mustering up the courage to ask for six fucking months was the reason for her outburst. But no - that can’t be it...can it?

“Sansa,” he ventures, loosening his grip around her. She peers up at him, red and blotchy and tear stained. “Sansa, what’s wrong?” he asks, brushing away some of her autumn auburn hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks.

“You don’t want to date me,” she repeats on a hiccup and Jon is instantly lost again.

“I do,” he counters, even with the taste of her rejection still in his mouth. “Why else would I have asked?”

“You don’t understand.” Sansa moves away from him then, sniffing back un-shed tears and furiously wiping away ones already spilled. “You’re _too good_. Dating me would only drag you down.”

Now he’s really  _truly_  lost because Jon can’t quite fathom any alternate universe where that statement could be true. “I don’t-” he starts but get cut off by Sansa’s movement as she hooks her hands at the bottom of her oversized vintage sweater and lifts it up.

Jon stands there dumbly with a crease between his brows for a while. Whilst it’s nice to be granted a view of the smooth expanse of opal skin from Sansa’s ribs down to just past her navel - a view he may have taken some time to admire at the odd pool party in the past - he’s not quite getting where she’s going with this turn of events. He shakes his head, his lips framing his next words before she twists to angle herself side-on from him now. And then he sees it.

It’s slight, but it’s there and as if to emphasise and underline his obvious dawning of enlightenment, Sansa then rests her hand on the small swell of her stomach.

“Harry” she says, simply and hoarsely.

“Harry?...Harry-”

“Knocked me up, and transferred to Vale University once he found out” she finished for him.

 


	53. Tumblr fic title prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've done a couple of tumblr fic title prompts - this one from @danidanisara is my fave so far!...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic title I was given to work with is 'Well...this is awkward'

Sansa’s best friend, Jeyne Poole is forever telling her friend to quit fantasising about one Mr Jonathan Snow and just fucking go for it. She’s pretty convinced that Jon harbours a similar thirst for one particular red headed Stark girl anyway, so what’s the issue?

But still, Sansa refuses to actually do anything about the fluttery feeling in her stomach whenever Jon is near.

That doesn’t stop her from the odd flurry of texts she sends to Jeyne though. Texts such as…

_**Sansa: Jesus Christ Jeyne! Did you see him today?!?! God! I just wanna lick him aaaallllllll over!** _

_**Sansa: Do you know what? I don’t care if Jon is a bit shorter than I am. Have you seen his arms?! Daddy could hold me up against a wall no problems** _

_**Sansa: Ugh. Jon asked if he could give me a ride today and all I could think was - why yes you could. On your face preferably. My brain short-circuited and I’m pretty sure I actually squeaked.** _

Until one fateful day, Jeyne receives these texts in quick succession instead…

_**Sansa: JEYNE!** _

_**Sansa: OMFG JEYNE!** _

_**Sansa: KILL ME NOW!!!!!!!!!!** _

_**Sansa: JEYNE - WHY DO YOU HAVE A NAME THAT STARTS WITH J? WHY WHY WHY?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!** _

_**Sansa: DO YOU KNOW WHAT I SENT JON BY MISTAKE?!? OhGod!OhGod!OhGod!! (And yes it does warrant all the caps ok?!)** _

_**Sansa: I SENT HIM A TEXT THAT SAID I’VE GOT A THING FOR JON’S HANDS AND THOUGHT THAT THEY’D MAKE PRETTY PINK SPANK MARKS ON MY ASS CHEEKS - JEYNE I SENT HIM THIS! JEYNE WTF AM I GONNA DO?!?!** _

_**Sansa: Why the fuck do you have to be right next to Jon on my phone contacts?!? WHYYYYYY?!?** _

_**Sansa: WHAT SHOULD I DOOOOO?!?!?** _

It takes Jeyne a long time to stop laughing, but when she does, she’s rather unhelpful…

_**Jeyne: Well…this is awkward!** _


	54. The truth of your tongue

Sansa slipped out from under her furs, the weight of them too heavy to bear along with the incessant noise in her head. That, and the fact that he had stayed last night.

  
Jon never stays for too long after their coupling usually. But, then again, Jon did many a thing that he doesn’t usually do last night.  
The first being the consumption of more ale than his normal intake and the inclusion of a skin of Tormund’s fermented goats milk.

  
It had been agreed that to secure an heir, Jon should visit her chambers thrice weekly for a time. But, previous to last night, he’d never kissed her quite like that before, he’d never moved his hips with harsh snaps, and dirty filthy words had not been panted into the side of her neck, his breath hot and ragged.

  
He’d tensed as he normally does upon the completion of the act, but the pained broken groan that accompanied her name from his throat was entirely new, as was the way he’d tenderly kissed and nuzzled behind her ear before rolling off of her and gathering her tight within his arms.

  
Jon had quickly succumb to sleep after that, his heart slowing to a steady thud against her back as Sansa lay there, recounting the words he had whispered as he’d moved inside her.

  
Men oft lay blame of their own actions at the feet of a cask of ale, but many a tongue tells its truth after a drop of drink, it is said. So what is she to do now - after hearing proclamations of sweet love and heady lust, and everything in between from Jon’s hot husky mouth?

  
“I stayed,” Jon croaked in a sleep soaked voice before she’d had the chance to dress and slip unnoticed from her chambers.

  
“You did,” Sansa confirmed.

  
“I am sorry, my lady,” he said, rubbing at his eyes and making to rise from beneath her furs.

  
Sansa crosses the room to stand beside her brother-turned-cousin-turned-husband. “Are you sorry for staying the night in my bed, or do you regret the things you’d whispered to me whilst you were in it?”

  
“The things I’d-“ Jon attempted to repeat her query before a wide eyed look of realisation swept across his face. “Sansa, I-“ he stuttered.

  
Sansa sat beside him atop the furs and grasped his hand within both of hers. If he is to cite the drink for his nocturnal proclamations then so be it, but she will offer him the chance to own those utterances that he wove into her skin as he’d rutted into her like a man possessed by lust and bewitched by love.

  
“What...what did I say?” Jon said, forcing the words into existence reluctantly.

  
Sansa took a steadying breath. “You said that ‘there is no finer place to be than between my legs.”

  
Jon paled as the words met his ears.

  
“You said,” Sansa continued, “that your greatest wish is to be allowed to taste my cunt and watch me come apart on your tongue.”

  
“Sansa, I’m so-“

  
“You also said,” she interrupted, “that you’ve never known a love as strong as the one you bear for me.”

  
Jon stared at her, doing nothing but blink before shifting uneasily beneath the furs. “And,” he ventured, “what do you think of the things I’ve said?”

  
A grin spread across Sansa’s face. “I think that you’re much more eloquent when deep in your cups than you are on your nights of sobriety.”

  
“And, err, how-how does my _eloquence_ make you feel, my lady?” Jon gulps, his hand twitching from within her grasp.

  
“Like I’d like to grant you your greatest wish,” Sansa purrs, gently urging Jon onto his back and climbing atop him before she begins to imitate Jon’s own sweet night-time kisses.


	55. How does she know you love her?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disney's enchanted au that I just posted in tumblr....because apparently I can't even sit down to watch a film with my little girl without thinking of these two dorks....

##  **Enchanted Jonsa au**

_Oh Gods!_  Jon thinks to himself as he only just manages to reign Sansa back in from leaning her head out of the apartment window and  _singing_  some kind of enchanted melody from where-ever it was she said she’s from.  _‘Winterfellovia’, was it?_

“ _Oh!_  Is this Visenya’s mother?” Sansa asks, lifting the framed photograph and stroking her delicate fingers over the image.

“Uh, yeah, that’s my sister,” Jon frowns and grabs the photo, placing it carefully back on the bookshelf and nudging it half a centimetre to the left so that it was exactly as it was before Sansa had touched it. “Vissy is my neice,” he explains as Sansa twirls away, her skirt billowing outwards, the ribbons in her hair spinning too.  _Seven Hells, how is he going to get rid of this nutter?_

“That’s lovely!” Sansa exclaims in that musical voice again, “she’s such a beautiful child! So kind! And wonderfully funny!” she giggles, settling once more in front of another framed photo of Rhae and Vissy. She pauses, her brow puckering adorably and her lips framing a slight pout as she looks back and forth between the two photos of his sister and niece that Jon displays in his sitting room. “Where is her father?”

“They’re divorced,” Jon offers with a shrug, utterly confused by the loud gasp his explanation pulls from her.

 _“Oh, that’s terribly sad!”_  Sansa whispers from behind the hands that flew to cover her perfectly shocked mouth.

“Trust me, it’s very common.”

 _“No!_ ” she shakes her head, naively not wanting to believe him.

“Sorry,” Jon shrugs once more, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, “but as a family lawyer, I can tell you that around 40-50% of all Westerosi marriages end in divorce.”

Sansa’s hands slowly slide from her face to curl under her chin, her bottom lip quivering. “So they...they just... _fall out of love?_ ” she asks, her voice hoarse and laced with grief.

Jon swallows, furrowing his brow.  _Doesn’t everyone know this?_  “Well, yeah...or they still love each other, but it’s not enough.” 

Jon feels like he’s just told a 4 year old that Santa doesn’t exist when he sees the tears form at the corners of Sansa’s sky blue eyes, glassy and shining as she stares at him in disbelief. “Love is  _always_  enough!” she wails before flopping back down upon his pristine cream sofa.

The tears are really coming now, and Jon feels like an absolute  _tool_. He steps forward, at a loss as to what to do to help. Not only does he not want her cries, and sniffs, and incoherent blubbering to wake up Vissy  _(whom he’s babysitting for the night)_  who is sure to give him the skink-eye for upsetting _‘the nice lady who looks like a real princess’_ , but he also feels a curious pain in his chest at the mere sight of  _‘the nice lady who looks like a real princess’_  being upset in the first place -  _especially_  if he’s the cause of it.

Sansa continues to make distraught noises, jabbering in unintelligible distressed sobs. Jon decides to kneel before her, prying her hands away from her face and reaching over to the neat little box of tissues he has on the side table that he’s never actually had cause to use. Before he gets a chance to pluck out a tissue and offer it to Sansa, a small blue-grey bird flutters through the open window, hovers over the box of tissue and clasps one in its tiny little birdy feet. Jon yanks his hand back in surprise, watching open mouthed as the feathered creature swoops passed Sansa, letting go of the tissue so that it flutters down into her lap before it decides to perch atop his flat-screen tv, twisting its head in twitchy movements as it watches them both with blinking little eyes and high pitched tiny tweets.

“Thank you,” Sansa hiccups without looking up from her lap before loudly blowing her nose.


	56. Two can play at that game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bbq at the weekend, so naturally my mind wanders to jonsa...

Sansa hated when Jon Snow would visit during a Stark family BBQ. Well,  _hated_  was probably too strong a word,  _but still_. Most of the time she was able to keep her thirst for her brother’s best friend under wraps, but when that guy chows down on glazed ribs or grilled corn with so much gusto it’s like he hasn’t been fed in over a week, she can’t help imagining him feasting on  _something else_  too.

It all started with those lips.  _Damn those lips of his!_  Sansa had first thought she was purely jealous - they were pouty and sensual, and it’s just  _not fair_  that a man should posses such a beautiful mouth. She would angrily apply her gloss, trying not to scowl at him as he wrapped the object of her ire around his thumb, sucking the remains of the sticky BBQ sauce from the digit.

But it wasn’t jealousy. Not really. Not when she literally couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he hungrily devoured corn from the cob in his hand, the golden yellow vegetable dripping and glistening with melted butter, covering his beard and muffling the appreciative noises groaning from his throat.

He opened his eyes to see her watching. Lowering the corn and granting her a sheepish grin. “It’s good corn,” he swallows.

“Mm-hm,” Sansa nods, squeezing her thighs together where her legs are crossed. The action didn’t seem to go unnoticed. Jon’s eyes drop to her bare legs, covered in a slight sheen from her cocoa-butter shimmer suncream where she wears her tiniest pair of denim shorts. He swallows again and licks those devilish lips of his before his eyes return to hers.

She can practically hear the cogs whirring in his head, trying to make sense of the slight movement, the tensing of her thighs and the flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the sun’s rays reaching into the Stark’s back yard.

Slowly, with his eyes still locked on hers, Jon returns his mouth to his corn. Everyone else seems to be oblivious to any kind of exchange between them, either busy with their own food, or lost in idle chit-chat. So, when Jon begins to leisurely lick his tongue over the little bumps and rows of corn, gathering up the melted butter before repeating the action over and over, all while maintaining eye contact with her, Sansa  _knows_  the jig is up.

_Shit._

He sinks his mouth into the corn, closing his eyes before making a groaning noise and sucking  _just_  enough so Sansa can hear the hungry noises he’s making.

_Bastard!_

Sansa makes a snap decision. She reaches over to the platter of barbecued meats, snatching a rather impressive looking sausage before dipping it into the bowl of homemade salsa. Bringing it up to her mouth with a raised brow as she sees that Jon is watching her intently, she swirls her tongue around the tip of the still hot sausage before closing her eyes and engulfing it to suck it clean. It leaves her mouth with a pop.

 _Two can play at this game,_  she thinks wickedly as Jon goes slack jawed and manages to drop his corn.


	57. Chalice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble in response to an 'object prompt' - this prompt was 'Chalice'

“This isn’t my cup,” Jon grumbled, throwing a puzzled look at the goblet in front of him at the high table. “Where’s my-“ his eyes raised to glance around, only to land on Tormund, raising a chalice to his lips to glug down the ale inside. “THAT’S MY CUP!”

Sansa watched in horror as her husband practically lunged for his friend as if one touch of his lips would foul the goblet for an eternity. “Jon!” She gasped after he’d swiped the item from his friend’s grasp.

As if only just now realising what kind of display he had put on, Jon lowered his gaze to the chalice in his hand bashfully. “It’s mine,” he commented quietly.

“Didn’t want your southern piss drink anyway,” Tormund groused, ripping a chunk of meat from a chicken leg with his teeth.

Sansa decided to turn and start talking to Lady Brienne instead of attracting further attention to her husband’s odd behaviour. Everyone else supping in the hall seemed to follow her lead and soon the sounds of cutlery on tin plates and quiet chatter filled the room.

After a while, Sansa felt Jon’s hand snake beneath the table and squeeze her knee. She took the prompt to bow her head towards him, whispering in his ear. “What was all that about?”

She watched as Jon flushed and swallowed his mouthful. “It’s the chalice I drank from at our wedding feast.”

“So you’ve claimed it as your own?”

“Well… I don’t have much else from that day left.”

It was true. Sansa remembers how his clothes were torn to ribbons by the rabid bunch of women, eager to disrobe their king at the bedding ceremony. She bit down on her lip to try and suppress her grin. “But how do you know it’s that one?” She asked, nodding towards the footed cup. It was a dull pewter thing with no discernible features. Quite plain really.

Jon snorted softly and turned the chalice by the stem. “You see that dent?” Sansa nodded. There was a misshapen part to the lip of the cup. “Do you remember coming up behind me whilst I was talking to Lord Cerwyn during the wedding feast?” Sansa furrowed her brow in thought. “You whispered something in my ear.”

_Oh_

Now it was Sansa’s time to blush a furious cherry blossom pink. She had felt quite forward that night after downing more summer wine than she was used to.

Jon leant even closer, so close their heads were nearly touching. “You told me to  _put a babe in you that night_ , my lady.”

Sansa wanted to hide her face even though she knew no one else had heard her husband. Her hand went to her still flat stomach. She thinks she might have something to tell Jon soon, but has decided to wait until absolutely sure. Her eyes went back to the chalice. “You dropped the cup,” she realised out loud.

Jon chuckled. “Aye. I did. That’s how I know it was this one,” he tapped the dent in the rim.

**One moon later….**

Sansa has two gifts to give her husband. First, the chalice that he’d claimed as his own - which Sansa has had engraved with two direwolves, one with an inlaid chip of ruby for its eye, the other featuring citrine.

Sansa smiled down at the second gift…. safe and growing in her belly.


	58. Myrish Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble in response to an object prompt on tumblr - this prompt was 'Myrish lace' :)

He’s really going to have to have a word with her if this carries on. It’s not that Jon is annoyed in any way by all the clothes his new wife keeps making him - on the contrary, the way she artfully claims him as a Stark and her husband with merely needle and thread is actually quite comforting and heartwarming for Jon. It’s just that she keeps on ordering more and more bolts of fabric for her projects and after taking one step inside her chambers, he shakes his head to himself at what he sees.

Bolts of linen, brocade, woven wool and other fabrics that he knows not the names of all propped up against the wall by her sewing chair.

 _No one needs this much fabric_ , he thinks to himself, reaching out to run his hand along a dark grey woollen material, neatly folded up into a square on the arm rest of Sansa’s chair.

It’s a delicate balance between them though. They are amicable, they get on well, but they’ve not yet learnt how to be as man and wife, and Jon’s not too sure if telling Sansa that she should perhaps reign in the amount of fabric she orders is actually any of his business.

Jon hears a shuffle coming from his wife’s antechamber which makes him pull his spine taut. He had thought himself alone when Sansa had not been in her usual position, hunched over an embroidery hoop.

“Oh,” she gasps, halting at the threshold.

 _‘Oh’ indeed_ , Jon thinks to himself as his mind scrambles to make sense of what his eyes see. There, in the doorway, stands his wife, dressed in an ivory silken shift with nothing but delicate lace barely covering her breasts.

Sansa follows his line of sight down to her chest and flushed back up to him. “It’s Myrish lace…do you like it?”

Jon nods, not trusting himself to speak as he swallows harshly.  _She can order as much of that particular fabric as she bloody well pleases!_

“Have you-“ she pauses to gnaw at her bottom lip, “have you come to take your rights?”

Jon’s eyes finally leave the area of lace where he’s sure he can see the dusky pink of her teat through the material. “You’d allow that?”

Sansa looks him up and down with a glint if hunger in her eyes. “As long as you don’t rip any of my pretty lace, I’d allow  _anything you like._ ”


	59. Necklace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I received 'Sansa's needle necklace' as an object prompt and I went with her silver one from s7

It hurt. Seven  _fucking_  hells, it hurt. Jon would give anything,  _anything_ to turn back the hours since the battle with the dead. _I promised to protect her. Where was I?_

It had all happened within the blink of an eye. One minute he’s watching over the Dothraki horde, setting their camps to the south of the castle. He stood atop the battlements, wondering how these warriors of summer will withstand what’s coming for them. The next thing he knows, a horn sung it’s panic into the icy wind and he’s bellowing for everyone to arm themselves, protect the castle, fight the dead men.

Jon’s not sure where Sansa was when the walls were finally breached, he had not laid eyes upon her since breaking their fast together with Bran and Arya. The last image of her now though, he can hardly bear breathing as it flickered in his mind again, and again,  _and again._  Red hair. Red hair being consumed by red flames. He’d gotten one glimpse of that colour amongst the pile of bodies being set aflame before he was roaring for their guards. Where were they when she needed them? Where were they if they weren’t protecting their lady?…  _Where was I?_

 _Oh Gods_ , the image hurt in his head, it hurt all the way through to the marrow of his bones. It hurt in his heart the most.

Bitter tasting memories of another redhead being kissed, licked,  _devoured_  by the flames came unbidden and  _fuck_  that hurt too. Is this it? Is this what life is? Trudging and battling on while those he loves fall into the grip of death?

Jon shuddered out a sigh, his breath fogging in the frigid air before him. He called for his northern men, his northern women, anyone who is willing to follow him south. The dead had ravaged his home and were moving on. It didn’t even feel like home anymore, something of him had died in that castle and he couldn’t bear even looking back at it.

Daenerys had already climbed her dragon, it’s wings beating fiercely, stirring up the snow as it screeched into the sky. No one had missed how the Night King had made an undead mount of one of her children and Jon’s sure she’s craving her revenge.

He trudged next to Arya, pushing Bran in his wheeled chair, following the many tracks of the Night King’s army. Their limited number of horses meaning everyone would alternate between the saddle and on foot. They had not spoken for nearly a league until Arya bent to pick up a single glove, abandoned in the snow. “This is quality leather,” she upturned the cuff, “lined with mink. Someone might find use of this to save a finger or two from the cold.”

Jon only grunted in response.

“Can I see?” Bran asked before Arya handed it over. “This is a noblewoman’s glove.”

A mile later they found the glove’s twin. Jon passed them along behind him for someone to claim and use.

“Those are cart tracks,” Arya noticed, nodding her head towards two deep straight furrows that flanked hoof-prints in the snow at the side of the road. Jon turned his eyes to the tracks. He agreed yet did not care to comment. “Since when do dead men ride in wagons?” his sister-turned-cousin asked. Jon shrugged.

Another league passed beneath their boots and Jon noticed the cart tracks had stayed with them until they reached where the road forked into two different paths. Something glinted in the firelight of the torches that his men were holding aloft. The unknown object was laid in the snow right beside where the tracks from the wagon’s wheels veered off in a different direction. He’s not sure what possessed him but he left the march to take a closer look.

Jon’s breath hitched in his throat, his heartbeat stuttered in his chest. He bent to pick up the item. “ARYA! BRAN! DAVOS!” Jon yelled for them to join him as he stared at the silver in his shaking hands. _Sansa’s necklace_. He’d know it anywhere.

“You said she was dead,” Jon ground out between clenched teeth. “You said she had been killed.”

Davos shook his head as he took the necklace to examine it. “That’s what I was informed… the girl with the red hair-“

“Was not her,” Jon growled.

Arya chewed on her lip. “Could someone have stolen it in the chaos of the fighting?”

“This is fine silver,” Ser Davos commented, turning the large ring and chain over in his hands. Jon’s breath came out in puffs of cloud as he waited impatiently for someone,  _anyone_  to tell him that she was alive, that he wasn’t getting his hopes up to be dashed like waves upon rocky shores. “If someone stole it, they would take care not to loose it,” Davos finished. Jon’s breath became ragged.  _She’s alive! She’s alive!_

“Someone’s taken her?” Arya asked.

“The gloves!” Jon suddenly remembered, “we found a noblewomen’s gloves on the road too.”

Looking from their northmen and women marching wearily on to where the cart had clearly veered onto another path, Davos looked to be coming to the same conclusion as Jon. “She’s leaving a trail.”

There was no question as to which path Jon would be following. “Get me a horse,” he demanded, eyeing the tracks of the cart.


	60. Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another tumblr object prompt - book

Jon, Robb and Sansa slid into the booth at the bar, the Starks on one side and Jon on the other. Robb took a swig of his beer and settled back into the old well-worn leather. “So, what’s new with you, Snow? You haven’t been round to the flat in ages.”

Jon’s eyes quickly flicked to Sansa before returning to his friend. “Nothin’,” he shrugged, “just been busy is all.”  _Busy fucking Sansa in every room of that flat while you’re out,_  he thought, trying to temper the way the corners of his lips desperately wanted to twitch into a shit--eating grin.

“You work too hard man,” Robb commented before snorting to himself, “if I didn’t know you better, I’d suspect you had a woman, but since you’re not swaggering about and beatin’ on your chest I know that’s not it.”

“Since when do I ‘swagger’ or beat on my chest?”

“Well,” Robb paused to take another glug of beer, “not literally, but you were on cloud 9 after you fucked Val.”

Jon instantly looked to Sansa. her eyes widened before narrowing, shooting him a thunderous look. “Yeah, whatever,” Jon tried to laugh off Robb’s comment. He pulled out his phone and typed out a text to his secret girlfriend, even though she was sat right in front of him.

_It wasn’t Val! I’ve NEVER fucked Val! Robb’s talking about the time he found your panties in my car. I panicked and told him they were hers!_

He pressed send and silently pleaded with her from across the table to believe him. There was no way he’d even consider touching another women, not with the way Sansa knew how to get him all riled up. He’s pretty sure he’s in love with her, but they’re yet to discuss that aspect of their relationship. She opened her bag and retrieved her phone, a smile spreading across her face as she read his message.Giving him a nod, Sansa reached forward for her drink. She sucked on the straw while maintaining eye contact with him and opened her mouth about to speak when a gaggle of women came to occupy the booth behind Jon. They laughed loudly making Robb’s eyebrows rise.

“Have you guys read the new Alayne Stone book? Lord Commander it’s called,” one said loudly to the group. Both Jon and Sansa froze. That was Sansa’s pen name for the erotic novels she writes - no one else knew, only him. She’s pretty darn good too, even if Jon does say so himself, considering some of the sex scenes are based on their own exploits.

“Yeah, I read it,” another woman laughed, “ _one handed!_ ” The group descended into a fit of cackles and Robb furrowed his brow as both Jon and Sansa tried to look at anything but each other.

Jon busied himself with his beer and tried to engage Robb in talks of football as Sansa grabbed her phone. 

 _Do you mind that people get off to our stories?_  came her text message.

Jon allowed himself a small smile. He liked that she called them  _‘our stories’_. he typed out his reply. 

_No. Not at all....it’s kind of hot actually._

_Oh? You like the thought of an audience?_

_Maybe._

_We could leave the curtains wide open the next time you come over. You know the whole apartment block across the street can see in. Would you like them to watch you fuck me?_

Jon spat out some of his beer and waved away Robb’s concerned look as he continued to cough and splutter. The next thing he knows, Sansa’s foot is sliding up his leg and rubbing at his crotch, making him harden in his jeans.

 _You DO like the thought of that don’t you, you dirty boy!_  came her next message,  _I think I know what kind of scene I might include in my next book!_

Jon looked up at her smirking face as she continued to play with him under the table. He stifled a whimper and typed on his phone.

_You’ll be the death of me Sansa Stark._


	61. Inmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little palette-cleanser of a ficlet before I launch back into Cam Girl :)

She doesn’t _look_ the type. But then, Jon supposes, you can’t really judge. There’s women of all shapes and sizes, from all different walks of life here at Castle Black Prison and the Gods know he’s seen a few prim and proper Misses come in and either get knocked down a peg or two or end up running the joint. But this new inmate - this convicted murderer - if she doesn’t buck her ideas up soon, they’ll eat her alive. Pretty things like her don’t do well inside when they act like timid little mice. He tries to keep an eye out for all the women under his care – he really does. But if this Alayne Stone gets paired up in a cell with certain characters from his wing-… well, he can’t protect her all night too. The thought makes his throat itch, so he swallows uncomfortably and taps on the keys of his computer while she waits in her prison oranges and cuffs, a dark head of hair obstructing her face as she stares at the polished floor.

 _‘Cell 47’_ the screen blinks back at him, making Jon sigh in relief. At least that one is unoccupied at present. “You’re in luck Miss Stone. You’ll be getting a cell to yourself for now.”

She blinks up at him, striking crystal blue eyes peeking through a small gap in the curtain of dark brown hair – and for a moment, his heart completely stops. His lips part in surprise and his eyes go wide. _But all the Starks are dead,_ his head tells him, _the bomb attack at Mockingbird Hall._ “San-“

“That’s good,” she interrupts, raising her cuffed hands towards his screen, “I’d prefer to have a cell to myself.”

Jon’s still sat behind the cell block desk, staring a little dumbfoundedly at the girl, no, _woman_ who he swears up and down is none other than Sansa Stark, when Brienne, his colleague comes to lead her away to her cell to be handcuffed and left to acclimatise before she’s let out for lunch.

When Brienne returns, Jon is already mentally running through a million possible excuses to go and talk the new inmate.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked my little ficlet - please leave a comment!!


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